#also I hate my writing and I’m worried about my cat and I’m dizzy half the time so

[thyknife]

xo

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

“Not so good News” - Gabriel x pregnant!reader (3/3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you’re here)

Summary: Part 3 of “Not so good News”! Read the first part HERE. After you had received the news of your pregnancy you feel rather conflicted. On one hand you want this child to live but on the other hand this also means you will die giving birth. Your only option is to enjoy the time you have left with the people you love, forcing your dark thoughts to the back of your head. (F/N) means friend’s name.

Warning: dark thoughts/themes, suggestive themes, heavy angst, swear words, death, child birth (not a warning but maybe someone is squeamish)

Category: angst and fluff, even more angst

Words: about 9.000

Note 1: So, the mini-series is finished. I hope you will enjoy/enjoyed the last part. This series was a pain in the ass to write... so much research and asking relatives if it’s accurate. Though, it probably isn’t because it is fanfiction after all. Note 2: I have another Gabriel story linked in my masterlist, that one is more fluffy (And another short series in the works but pst). And I will definitely write more about/with him because I love him, all right?! I love hand hate him at the same time.

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"Not so good News" - Gabriel x pregnant!reader

Pregnancy week 20: The pregnancy was now at its halfway point which also meant that you probably had only twenty more weeks to live. What it also meant was twenty more weeks of pregnancy symptoms and to be honest you were sick of it. Sometimes even literally. You had been so dizzy lately you even blacked out during research. Sam and Dean weren't happy, thinking that you had over worked yourself and Gabriel immediately teleported you to your room after you had woken up again. So now you were on bed rest, or rather jail time. You laid on your back with your arms crossed before you and a pouty look on your face. "This sucks." You wanted to do more than laying around all day however there wasn't really much to do in the bunker especially on your own. You stood up from your bed and walked towards a shelve on the right side. Somewhere underneath all the stuff you had there had to be the thing you were looking for. "Aha!" you grabbed it and left the room, searching for the boys. You found them still sitting in the library, looking for their next hunt but the moment you stepped in all eyes were on you. "(Y/N), what are you doing up?" Gabriel asked with one eyebrow raised in question. You let the box you were holding fall onto the table. "No longer wasting my time" you declared and sat down, opening the box and arranging its content. "I want to spend time with you all and by that I'm not thinking about researching with you." You looked up at the four guys who slowly turned to you and the game you were setting up.

"So, we are playing monopoly now!"

"Only if I get to be the car" Dean said and immediately snatched it for himself. Sam rolled his eyes at him and took the dog. "How do you play?" Castiel asked confused, grabbing the shoe because it was closest to him. You threw him a small smile. "I'll show you." You then turned to Gabriel, offering him to choose his playing piece but he shook his head. "I always play with my own token" he said and snapped his fingers. In front of him appeared a small figurine of himself. You glanced at him with your lips pressed into a thin line to hold back a giggle. "Really?" you questioned as a short breath of laughter escaped your mouth. The archangel shrugged his shoulders. "Want one, too?" he asked, his fingers ready. You shook your head. "No, it's alright. I'll just take the cat." After you had set everything up and explained the rules to Castiel the game began. However, unsurprisingly Cas was still the first person to go bankrupt. Sam soon followed, selling his last green street to Dean. He mumbled something under his breath before throwing the dog back into the box. So now it was only you, Dean and Gabe. "You owe me 600, Dean" you said, pointing on the last light blue street where Dean had his car parked in front of the hotel you had recently built there. "What? How?! You only have shit streets" he complained and gave you the money reluctantly. You chuckled. "Yes, but I got a lot of shit streets." Dean only huffed which made you laugh. You had to throw dice next and landed on the police man. With a theatrical sigh you put your cat in jail, throwing the dice to Gabe. He grinned at you before rolling them. He landed on the middle orange street. Now you were the one grinning at him: "That makes 550." "You have one good street, only one hotel and maybe two to three houses on a street. How are you making so much money?" Gabriel asked after giving you the game money. You shrugged your shoulders. "I have three complete streets: brown and light blue at the beginning on which always someone ends up on. And in the beginning it doesn't feel like much money but it stacks up. And the orange one is often overlooked because the red one has higher prices but people always end up somewhere in that corner, too. Dean rolled his eyes, taking the dice. "Also, you two only have one complete street which lowers the change of getting much money because I bought one dark blue and one yellow one to stop you" you added and leaned back against your chair. "How about a little trade then" Gabriel suggested. "I want the dark blue street you stole from me and I can give you 350 and a get out of jail free-card." "Why would I want that?" you questioned with one raised eyebrow. "I still get money in jail but I don't lose anything for three turns. It's a win-win for me, I'm staying here." The archangel huffed. "Alright, 400 bucks and a train station. Last offer." You shook your head, staying stoic. Turning towards Dean you nodded at him, signaling that you were finished and that he could roll the dice. He got a nine, landing on the same orange street like Gabe did before him. You grinned evilly at him. "550, Dean." "I don't have enough money in cash I need to sell houses first" he explained, giving you six of his green houses from his pink street (you were playing as the bank too). You exchanged them for 300 which you kept and waited for the remaining 250. "Dean, I noticed you are short with money" you said after you had rolled the dice, still stuck in jail. "How about a little trait?" Gabriel shock his head at Dean, whispering "She's too powerful already, don't" which only made you grin. "I want the yellow street you have" you pointed at the card before offering your hand to Dean. "And in exchange I will give you your 550 bucks back." Gabriel continued to shake his head but Dean grabbed your hand, agreeing to the deal. You then turned to the archangel. "Gabe, you want your blue street, right? And I want the last yellow one you have" you said, your eyes sparkling mischievously. "I will give you the blue one if I get the yellow one and 350 bucks." He reluctantly agreed. And so the game went on. Cas and Sam stayed, watching it all go down quietly as Dean lost his last street to you after having to sell his pink one to Gabe completely as well as his train stations. It was a pretty equal distribution of streets, however after about a half hour later you ended up winning. Grinning you put the cards back into their box. "Your strategy really just is to buy all the shit streets at the very beginning and slowly watching as we lose all our money to them?" Dean questioned. You nodded. "Yep, and a few other moves helped me win, too but I won't tell you more than that." All things considered you had a lot of fun and the others did too. "Now you will finally get rid of me again" you said while standing up, smiling at them playfully. "I'll go back to bed. I'm exhausted and my legs are killing me." With that you turned around and walked back to your room in silence. Or at least you had planned to do that, however you heard footsteps following you. Looking over your shoulder you saw Gabriel running after you. You stopped with a grin, waiting for him. When he caught up he didn't say anything so you continued your way back with him by your side. "Thanks for letting me win" you said and shoved his side. "I did not do such a thing" he declared swollen, grinning down at you which made you laugh. "I know but you could have tricked us all anyway for you to win but you didn't do it." "I retired from my trickster days, sugar" the archangel reminded you. "Yes, but we both know that you would never stop messing with us" you said. Throwing him a side glance you smiled at him. "I'm amazed that you didn't play a prank at Dean for a while now." Gabriel chuckled and wrapped one arm around you. "Don't let yourself be fooled, (Y/N)." You grinned and then wrapped your arm around him too, pressing your head against his shoulder. "Thank you" you whispered so faintly you worried he wouldn't catch it. "For what?" he asked with a chuckle. You only shrugged. "I don’t know. I guess for everything." ____________________ Pregnancy week 22: In the last two weeks nothing much changed or happened. Your belly continued to grow and pregnancy symptoms were still haunting you. Your legs cramped so much now you didn't really want to move out of bed. So, you didn't. You stayed in bed all day. "At first you desperately wanted to do something you even overworked yourself into blacking out and now you are lying in bed all day" Gabriel chuckled beside you, nuzzling his nose against your neck. You huffed and turned your head so you could look at him. "Firstly, you're not pregnant so shut up" you sassed back at him but stayed silent after that, turning on your side again so your back faced the archangel. You felt Gabriel squirm behind you. "Secondly?" "Nothing, that is all there was" you said which earned you a hearty laugh from him. "You're adorable" he said and wrapped his arms around you. Now you were the one to squirm, trying to get out of his grip. "Am not!" you proclaimed. "I'm an angry pregnant lady, fear me." You succeeded in freeing yourself and were now sitting on your knees before Gabriel. "I'm trembling underneath your gaze, spear me" he managed to get out between his laughter. With a pouty look you threw a pillow in his face. "You're making fun of me!" you pointed out accusingly. "I would never" he declared with one hand pressed against his chest in shock as he sat up as well. "I don't believe you" you said and crossed your arms before your chest while desperately trying to suppressed your grin. "Oh, furious pregnant lady, how can I prove myself?" Gabriel asked and slowly crawled closer to you. You had to let yourself fall back against the cushions with the archangel now leaning over you. "Hmm" you hummed and pretended to think about it while Gabriel's face slowly got closer to your neck. You shuddered, feeling his breath dance over the sensitive skin. "Helping me with my crampy legs would be a start" you whispered. Without hesitation the archangel set up and shifted his focus to your cramped legs and feet. He slowly massaged from your feet upwards. By now your eyes were already closed and soft hums left your lips now and then. You just enjoyed the feeling of the pain slowly washing away. Or at least you did until Gabe's hands wandered up to the inner side of your thighs. One of your eyes snapped open, glaring at the archangel. "What are you doing?" you questioned with a low voice. "Shh" he breathed and crawled back over you. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck but continued to eye him suspiciously. "Let me spoil you." "You don't need to" you said while Gabriel had already started to pepper your face with kisses. "Oh, but I want to" he kissed the top of your nose which made you giggle. He continued to place kisses on your face before slowly wandering down towards your neck. Occasionally a hum or sigh left your lips as you let yourself relax under his caresses. "What do you want to do?" he suddenly asked. You opened your eyes that had been closed until now and saw him hovering over you again. "What?" you questioned. "What's on your bucket list?" Now you understood. You let your arms fall from his shoulders as you thought about it, letting your eyes wander around the ceiling. "I-" you looked at the archangel. "I don't know." "Really? There is nothing you can think of" Gabriel asked with one raised eyebrow. You shook your head. "I just never thought about it before... And I guess you had finished yours long before you even met me" you said, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. But to your surprise the archangel shook his head. "I achieved my last one only a few years ago." "And what would that have been?" you asked. Gabe's gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips before moving back up. A small smile adorned his face as he spoke up again: "Falling in love." Immediately you felt your face heat up. "You're just saying that to make me feel better" you said, trying to cover your face with your hands but Gabriel pushed them down and shrugged his shoulders. "What about when you were a kid?" he continued to ask. "What did you wish for then?" "Expect a real pink unicorn and ice-cream for every meal?" you laughed before losing yourself in your thoughts again. "I guess ... getting married someday." You felt Gabriel stiffen up above you, making you tense up, too. Shaking your hands in front of your chest as far as possible you backtracked immediately. "Not that we have to. It's just a silly kids thing, you know. Back then we had plenty of games about our future or talked about family and marriage. It was just normal, expected. Ahh! Not that I expect it from you. I don't want you to propose or anything. I-" you noticed that you were rambling so you forced yourself to stop and took a deep breath." I shouldn't have said that." Now you really did cover your face with your hands, wishing to disappear. Though you never talked with Gabe about marriage or anything like that you always knew it would be a tricky subject. With him being practically immortal and marriage always or often associated with religion. You just guessed he didn't want to since he had always tried to distance himself from God and heaven and all that. And since he was an angel, an archangel ... you could promise him to spend your remaining life with him. He couldn't. And now was definitely not the time to marry since you would die in less than twenty weeks anyway. "I'm sorry" you said without really knowing why. Maybe you just wanted to break the silence that seemed to lay heavily in the air. "Don't be" the archangel said, caressing your check with one hand. "But I knew it would be a tricky subject to you." "How so?" "Well" you dragged on and slowly uncovered your face. "I just guessed and by your reaction..." You didn't continue speaking as Gabriel sat up on his knees. Lifting yourself up on your elbows you eyed him confused. Was the subject so repulsing to him? "You mean because I stiffened up?" You nodded. Gabriel let out one breathy laugh. "I was just surprised and shocked because I-" he snapped his fingers and opened his hand revealing a ring. "-actually wanted to give you this." You straightened up completely shocked. Your eyes darting from his face to his outstretched palm. "Wha-" "They aren't wedding rings. More like a promise ring, really" he explained as you slowly reached out to take the ring from him. He was right, it didn't look like the typical engagement or wedding ring. It was a silver ring, shaped into a feather that would curl around your finger. "For what?" you asked and looked up, the ring still uselessly lying in your palm. Gabriel raised his right hand, revealing a silver ring on his finger that hadn’t been there before. This one had the typical form of a ring, however the feather was engraved into it. "To promise that I will always love you." You felt tears in your eyes as you jumped forward, tackling the archangel in a hug. "You always make me cry" you complained but honestly it probably was because of the hormones. You stifled your sobs in his shirt as you pressed yourself flat against him, so you even felt his laughter vibrate through his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, too. "Can I?" he asked after a while and pushed you from him. He took the ring back from you and offered his other hand for yours to put inside. You didn't hesitate to do so but felt your face heat up again as he looked at you with love filled eyes. He slipped the ring onto your finger, gave you one last, long look before letting go of your hand. You looked at the delicate feather wrapped around your ring finger. "Thank you" you said with tears still clinging to your face but a big smile on your lips. You wrapped your arms around him again, burying your face into his chest ____________________ Pregnancy week 23: You had thought hard about what to put on your bucket list ever since Gabriel brought it up. However, it was pretty hard to find things you were able to do because of your condition (pregnant) and your situation (kind of trapped in the bunker). One thing you couldn't get out of your mind though was to see the northern lights far away from any other light source, no cities or other people. You couldn't shake it off even if it meant leaving the bunker. Your second idea was maybe rather cliché and not so impossible: having a family dinner without anything to worry about and no arguments to destroy the mood. "Hey, Gabe?" you asked while entering the library. The archangel immediately looked up from whatever he was doing, beaming at you. "What's the matter?" You sat down on the chair opposite to him. "I was thinking about what you said" you started. "What exactly? I talk a lot" he questioned, resting his head on one palm. You snorted in agreement. "About what I wanted to do, about my bucket list" you reminded him. "And I came up with two things." "Only two? If I knew you were so easy to please I-" you cut him off by throwing a crumpled up piece of paper at his face. "I wanted to ask if you had any ideas or further inspirations for things to achieve in the bunker" you paused. "Okay, I have only one thing for my list because for the first one I would have to leave." "What would that be?" Gabriel asked, putting his head in his other palm while closing the book he was looking at. "I always wanted to see the northern lights far away from civilization" you confessed and looked to the side, pushing one stray strand of hair back. "And my second point was having a family dinner." "With your parents?" Gabriel asked which made you flinch. Maybe you should have expected that since you had never talked with him about your life before becoming a hunter. Still, hearing the word stung a lot. "I never told you why I became a hunter, right?" Gabriel nodded confused and you took a deep breath. "My parents died when I was maybe 14" you explained, not meeting his eyes. "They were killed by a werewolf and I only survived because a hunter rushed in. He shot the werewolf and took me in. He taught me everything he knew but I was still traumatized, refused to leave the house after sunset. Still ... he was like a father to me. And then when I just turned 19 he was possessed by a demon after his tattoo was burned from his skin. The demon inside him stabbed him in the heart before I was able to exorcize him" you finished and wiped away the tears that had found their way over your cheeks. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch again. Looking up you saw Gabriel standing beside you. You hadn't noticed that he had stood up. "I'm fine" you said, not believing even yourself. The archangel didn't say anything, just let his hand rest on your shoulder, sending you comfort through his touch. "Anyway, why did I tell you that again?" you shook your head, trying to rid yourself from the sad memories. "Ah, right. So, when I say family who I mean by that are Dean, Sam, Cas and you, Gabe." You looked up at him with the tiniest smiles on your lips as the archangel wiped away the last tear from your check. "The only problem with a family dinner is that I think it will escalate like always. Especially since I know that Dean is still looking for another way, a way to safe me in secret. Even though I forbid it" you only mumbled the last part. Gabriel grinned and bopped your nose. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, sugar" Gabriel said. "It's late, you should go to bed." You stood up, nodding and wrapping your arms around the archangel still craving his touch. He returned the hug. "I will be with you shortly I need to finish this first." You nodded once more, hugged him for a few moments more before letting go. "Good night" you said and stretched yourself on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the lips before vanishing into your room. You had fallen asleep immediately. "(Y/N)!" you squirmed under your blanket, not ready to wake up just yet. You felt something, or someone next to you and a hand on your shoulder slowly shaking you awake but still you didn't really budge. "Let me sleep" you complained and covered your head with the warm blanket. "Next time, sugar. Now you need to wake up." You opened your eyes, pulling the blanket down and let them wander from Gabe's in shadow casted form to your clock standing on your bedside table. "It's not even three in the morning, what the hell" you grumbled. "A pregnant lady needs her sleep." Suddenly you were pulled out of the comfort of your bed and instead stood on wobbly legs in your room. "What are you doing?" you questioned, holding onto Gabriel's hands. "You wanted to see something, sugar." Confused you freed one of your hands and rubbed your eyes. "My brain's too tired to function, Gabe. Can't it wait till, I don't know, when the sun is shining?" you begged and suppressed a yawn. You could vaguely see the archangel shake his head in the darkness of your room. "Believe me, it will be worth it" he promised. You closed your eyes and rubbed the bridge of your nose. "I really hope you're right." And suddenly when you opened your eyes again you weren't in your room anymore. Confused you looked around. You were standing in the middle of a snowy landscape. Immediately you thought you would be cold but when you looked down at you, you saw that you were wearing a big coat, dark ski pants and a fluffy hat instead of your pajama. "What the hell" you whispered and turned around to look at Gabriel who -even though he didn't really needed it- matched his outfit to yours. He stood behind you with a huge grin. "Look up, sugar" he said and so you did. You hold your breath as you looked at the clear night sky with thousands of twinkling stars. But they weren't catching your attention, no. What had captured your imagination were the northern lights shining above your head. Magnificent colors danced above you, fading from green to blue to purplish pink. And even though your neck already started to hurt from constantly looking up you didn't care, too fascinated by the alluring dance. It looked like you had dipped your head into another world, another universe full of beautiful, vivid colors that were swaying and changing, illuminating the world around you. "It's amazing" you breathed when you felt the archangel take a step closer to you and turned around to meet Gabe's gaze again. "Thank you." Out of instinct you twirled the ring he had gave you before you looked up at the sky again, losing yourself in the endless colors swirling through the carpet of stars on this cold September night in who knows which country you were right now. "Dean and Sam will kill you if they figure out you let me leave the bunker" you stated with your eyes still glued to the aurora lights. "Not if you don't tell them" Gabriel noted. You turned around, wanted to say something but when you opened your mouth to speak only a shallow breath escaped out of it as you wrapped your arms around your stomach. Twisting your face into a frown you leaned forward. "(Y/N)?!" Gabriel asked panicked and walked in front of you. He put his hands on your shoulders to straighten you up again. "Are you alright? Are you in pain? What's going on?" For a few more seconds you didn't answer, stared at the ground with your arms still tightly wrapped around yourself. You felt it again and it was then you realized what this was. You let out a pained laugh. "Yes, everything's fine" you reassured the worried archangel with a small smile. Grabbing one of his hands which were still resting on your shoulder you directed it to your still growing bump. You had to wait a few moments with your hand on top of his before you felt it again. Gabriel flinched and you still saw worry in his eyes but when he looked up from your stomach and searched for your gaze, he slowly relaxed when he saw the softness in your eyes. "Are these...?" "Her first kicks? Yes." In the next couple of seconds you saw every emotion washing over his face. Happiness, relief, love, peace, joy but also worry, fear and panic. But it wasn't the type of panic that shook to your core, making your tense up and freeze. No, it was that type of panic a soon to be Dad had when realizing he would have to care for a small helpless baby soon. It was the first time you saw this fatherly panic on his face ever since the beginning, ever since the big news of you being pregnant. "She's quite strong. Knocked the air right out of me" you huffed while intervening your free hand with his other hand. "Archangel genes" Gabriel laughed. "Yes" you breathed, leaning into his touch with a smile. You two stayed like that for many moments more, enjoying each other's presence underneath the fantastical sky. You twirled the ring on your finger again. You felt the happiest ever since all this had started. This was probably the happiest day you had in a long time. ____________________ Pregnancy week 30: You felt like you had eaten a bowling ball or something like that. Your belly was extremely round and weighted a total of proud 25 pounds more of which the baby accounted for about 3 pounds. It was late October so you had about 2 and a half more months to life. You calculated with the help of your friend (F/N) that the baby would be due around the second week of January. Having these thoughts were scary. Normally the dated day of birth was something the parents craved, finally being able to hold their baby in their hands. But you, you were resenting it, you feared it. You thought you had left these thoughts behind but they haunted you even more now that the day got closer and closer. The last few months were hard, being pregnant in summer were hard but luckily the bunker could be regulated so you never really felt to hot. But now you were freezing even though the heater operates at full stretch so you just wrapped yourself into blankets all the time just like now. You were sitting on the sofa in the library again, the cup of tea you had been drinking was already empty. You sighed, feeling lonely. The guys had left a few days ago for a hunt which had required all of them so you were left behind for possible research again. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with your favorite archangel right now and it seemed like he had heard your silent wish. You heard the unmistakably flutter of wings behind you and turned your head to look at him. "Gabe? What are you doing here? Is the hunt already finished?" you asked, looking around in search for the others but nobody was there. "No, it's just me" he declared. "And what are you doing here then?" "I just wanted to spend some time with my two beautiful girls" Gabriel said and sat down beside you. You snorted because of his cheesy comment but put your head on his shoulder anyway, nuzzling into his side still wrapped in your blanket as he laid one hand on your stomach waiting for a kick. Your little, heavy light bulb grew very active ever since you saw the northern lights but she seemed to like to kick around at night and sleep during the day. "I don't want to ruin the mood" you said after a long time of silence in which your thoughts continued to suffocated you. "...but I'm afraid, Gabe." You didn't move or look up just pressed yourself flat against him. "I just... wish I could hold her before I.." you didn't finish but you knew Gabriel understood what you meant. "I'm sorry, sugar" he said nuzzling his face in your hair and kissing the very top of your head. "You don't have to be, Gabriel, it's not your fault. And I wanted to have the baby so I just have to come to terms with the consequences of that decision" you explained. "Give me some of the credit, too, sweetcheeks" he cupped your face with one hand, directing your gaze at him as his face hovered inches above yours. "I worked very hard on that baby." You tried to bite back the laugh bubbling in your throat as you pushed his face away from you. "Gabe!" you screeched embarrassed even though he was the only one in the bunker. Giggling you shook your head. "Nice to see you didn't change since the pregnancy started." "I'll never change, you know that, sugar." You shook your head in disapproval. "That's not true, you did change" you noted. "You stopped your playboy days and stayed by my side." "Ah, well. You're just so interesting. How could I not stay a little longer to figure all the ways out to make you come undone" he said and wiggled his eyebrows as you slapped his shoulder with a gloomy look in your eyes. "I take that back, still one hundred percent the same archangel that I met years ago." Crossing your arms before your chest you held your head high as you ignored his laughter. "Oh, come on, honeybun" Gabriel laughed. "Don't ignore me." You huffed, giving him the cold shoulder while desperately trying to suppress your own laughter. "Stop ignoring me, (Y/N) or I will have to take drastic measures" he playfully growled and if you had turned around to look at him you probably would have seen the desire bubbling in his eyes. "You now I can't resist when you play hard to get." Finally, you turned around to meet his fiery gaze. "Oh, really?" you asked innocently. "I never noticed." Your faces were now only inches away from each other, his breath hot on your lips as he tried to hold back. It was nice seeing you still had this effect on him. You loved to watch him try to suppress it, to not give in and still losing to it every time: his desire for you. "You know, we are alone right now" you said with a grin as your eyes darted between Gabe's and his lips. "Oh, I know" Gabriel growled as his gaze fixated on your mouth. "And I intend to relish every second of it." ____________________ Pregnancy week 34: Only about six more weeks to live. It felt like a countdown. You tried to enjoy and appreciate every day and every second you had left, spent a lot of time with Gabriel, Dean, Sam or Cas. However, you couldn't prevent or deny that you were getting more distant. You didn't do it intentionally, or at least you thought so. Okay, maybe you tried to make everything easier for you and the guys. You would leave them, there was no going around that even though you knew Dean hadn't abandoned the plan of finding another solution, a way of saving you. It was just written in his genes apparently. But he hadn't brought anything up and you knew it was hopeless. The only thing you could think of was making a deal with a demon. Your life for someone else's but you wouldn't allow anyone to sacrifice themselves for you. And you weren't even sure if a demon could grant this wish, if they had more power than a half angel child. The last few weeks you had mayor back pains because your stomach had grown so much. Every sleeping position was uncomfortable, sitting was unbearable. Your bump was so big now you couldn't even put on shoes on your own. You felt more useless and moody, too but you weren't sure if it was because of the hormones or because you knew it would happen soon, it would end soon. You put one hand on your stomach, feeling the little light bulb (it became an agreed nickname for the baby between you and Gabe) move around. You noticed that she liked to lie on the right side more than on the left, leaving a little elevation there. Smiling you caressed your unborn baby. You just wished you had more time. ____________________ Pregnancy week 38: It was the fore last week but on a brighter spirit it was also Christmas. You haven't really celebrated Christmas ever since you were a child, ever since your parents were still alive. Of course, when you teamed up with Sam and Dean you exchanged gifts you had bought the day before but it was never a huge deal. You never really cared about the presents anyway. So, you expected that wouldn't change even if it was your last ever Christmas. You had stayed in bed all day, trying to find some rest after your baby girl had kept you awake almost all night. Was that why every mom awaited the birth so desperately? To finally sleep again and be free from all those pregnancy symptoms? A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened your eyes to look at the clock. It was about four pm and if you didn't stand up soon you wouldn't find sleep this night, too. With a groan you rolled out of bed and rubbed your eyes. Maybe hanging out with the guys would lift your spirit. Thinking about them ... you haven't seen them all day. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wondered what they were possibly doing. Had they found another hunt? Were they researching something? Stretching your back you slowly began your way to the library in search for anyone. "Guys?" you asked as you turned around the corner, still rubbing your sleepy eyes. "What were you doing all da-" you froze as you laid eyes on the library. The room was fully decorated with Christmas lights and even a small Christmas tree was standing in one corner, decked out with balls and lights. "What the hell" you mumbled and stepped into the room, your eyes glued to Sam and Dean who were putting the last decorations on the tables. "Oh, fuck" Dean said after noticing you. "Ehm, surprise?" You chuckled. "Well, yeah. I am surprised. Why are you decorating the library." "We thought we should celebrate Christmas this time" Sam explained, leaving out the obvious reason why. You nodded. "I appreciate it but I hope you didn't get me any presents because I was unable to buy anything for you." The two brothers shook their heads. "Nope, no gifts. Only decorations and something festive to eat" Dean declared. "It's gonna be burgers, right?" you questioned and crossed your arms before your chest. The slight blush on Dean's cheeks told you enough. "Good, because I'm starving and would kill for a burger right now." "Did I hear someone say burger?" You looked at the big entrance, seeing Gabe with bags in his hands. "Because I just so happen to have some." Laughing you sat down on one of the chairs, awaiting the festive meal. The three guys sat down too and Cas joined you soon after even though he didn't eat anything. At first you just looked around the room, eyes filled with childish wonder. You had missed the warm lights, the smell of Christmas that came just because of the atmosphere around you. You quickly lost yourself in conversation. Chatting about anything and everything. After a long time, you didn't worry, didn't fear the next day, the next week. You lived and just enjoyed the moment. The warmth that surrounded you, the smiles on their faces and the sound of laughter. This is what you always wanted. And you realized that your bucket list was finished, your last wish: having a peaceful family dinner. ____________________ Pregnancy week 39: Only about one week left. However, you weren't thinking about that just yet because today was New Year's Eve. Sam and Dean had bought some fireworks they wanted to set of which was why you were sitting outside of the bunker, wrapped in a blanket in Gabriel's arms. The Winchesters had oh so nicely agreed to let you come outside too. "How much time do we have left?" Dean asked, already hurrying with setting up all the fireworks in bottles on the street. You freed one arm from Gabriel's hug and looked at your phone. "Two minutes." "Shit, gotta hurry" Dean cursed. You laughed at him as he tried to work faster, ordering Cas to help him. "One thirty... One fifteen... One minute" you continued to count down. "Shut up." Giggling you put your phone away again after seeing Sam grabbing his to start the thirty second countdown in a few. Nuzzling back into Gabriel's side you glanced up at him only to see that his gaze had already been on you. "Hey" you mumbled with a smile. "Hey to you, too" he quietly laughed as he pushed back a strand of hair from your face. Immediately you lost yourself in his warm eyes, the cold night air long forgotten. His face was already so close to yours that you felt his breath on your lips. "Thirty" you heard Sam said. You had to wait thirty seconds until you could finally kiss him? You huffed a breath in annoyance as your hands found their place on Gabe's chest. "Impatient?" Gabriel grinned. You glared at him. "As if you weren't." "Twenty." "Oh, I can live without a kiss" the archangel stated with a smirk. You raised one eyebrow at him before grinning evilly. "Oh, is that so?" You put your hands away from his chest and turned your head forward again, looking at Dean who was armed with one windproof lighter in each hand. You couldn't suppress your laughter when you saw his silly stance. He seemed ready to tackle the fireworks to the ground. You hadn't seen him act this childish in a long time. You felt Gabriel squirm beside you which only made you grin even more. "Ten." "(Y/N)" the archangel growled lowly. "Nine." You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. "Eight." "I thought you said-" you turned around to meet his eyes completely. "Seven." "-you could live without a kiss from me?" you challenged him. "Six." He huffed. "Five." Stretching up you were the one to tease him with your hot breath on his mouth. "Four." "Well" Gabriel started and placed his arms to either of your sides, caging you in. "Three." You felt his body heat springing over to you as his eyes darted to your lips still stretched into a smile. "Two." "Not now" he finally said. "One!" He grabbed your face in his hands and closed the gap between you two just as Sam shouted "Zero!". Melting into the kiss you pressed your hands against his chest again and closed your eyes. However, the grin on your lips stayed as you responded the kiss. Silently moaning as Gabriel's hand wandered down your sides, leaving a tingling sensation behind, you stretched upward, pressing into him. This kiss was the sweetest you had ever shared with the archangel. Soft, gentle, slow. There was no intention behind it, no raw desire but love. So, you let yourself relax in his arms as the fireworks took of behind you, buzzing through the night sky. "Who was impatient now?" you asked after breaking the kiss, your lips still only barely apart. "Not my fault, I just can't resist you." "You're so cheesy when you want" you laughed and closed the gap between you again in another soft kiss that quickly grew more passionate and daring. You wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking through his hair and slightly tugging at their ends. He groaned against your lips and let his hands wander too. They quickly found their place only barely above your bum as he pressed you against him as far as possible with your baby bump. You felt warm and safe, like being encased in fluffy clouds and soft blankets, like if he had wrapped his wings around that you were unable to see. You parted with a gasp, sucking in breaths of air with a laugh as you looked up the archangel. "I love when you laugh and your eyes crinkle up" Gabriel whispered which only made laugh again and then smiling like a fool. "Are you growing soft on me" you teased. "I am always soft for you" he said without missing a beat. You felt your face heat up but forced yourself to not break the eye contact. "I love you" you mumbled with half lidded eyes. Gabriel chuckled, hugging you close. "I love you, too, sugar." You stayed outside for a while longer, talking with each other while looking up at the stars. But at about 1 am it was too cold to stay outside any longer so everyone slowly packed their drinks and the empty bottles for the fireworks and began their way back into the bunker. You let out a sigh as you heaved yourself up with Gabriel's help, smiling appreciatingly up at him and tried to find your balance. Just as you were standing safely on your legs and took one step forward you felt it. Bending forward you pressed one hand against your stomach and blindly searched for Gabriel to steady yourself with the other one. "(Y/N), is everything alright?" he asked, grabbing your outstretched arm. You growled in response, biting your lip, almost drawing blood. "Ju-just a contraction. Probably just Braxton Hicks contractions" you muttered under your breath and straightened up again after you were sure it was done. "Are you sure?" You nodded, letting go of Gabriel and taking one step forward only for your knees to give in. You yelped in shock but luckily Gabriel caught you before you could hit the ground. Another groan of pain left your lips as you let yourself be kept upright by the archangel just as another wave of pain hit you. Your lips parted, sharply sucking in the cold winter air, as you tried to get the words out. "Or ma-maybe they're real contractions" you stammered. You slumped back down, only kept up by Gabriel's arms while your vision got fuzzy and pain shot through you up from your stomach. You heard him yell for Sam, Dean and Cas who had already gone inside but you didn't really register it. It was absurd. Everything seemed so unreal to you and in the same time frighteningly real, too. Was this ... it? "Gabe" you said not even really knowing why as a nauseous feeling washed over you. Clinging onto him you blinked a few times, trying to make out his face. "I-I need your help." He heaved you into his arms without another word, hurrying inside as fast as possible. "What's the matter?" Sam asked, looking up from his seat in the library. You only cried out in pain, curling into Gabe's chest. "She's having contractions" Gabriel said and walked past the three men in the direction of your room. They hastily stood up and ran after him, frantically shouting all the time. "Real ones? The real deal?" Dean asked worried. "Yes!" you yelled with tears in your eyes as a wave of heat crashed over your body. Gabriel kicked your door open and then laid you down on your bed. Panicking you looked up at the ceiling. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, it was too early and your friend wasn't even in town yet. They had promised to come by to help with the birth giving process. You had no clue what to do and the guys had non either. They were panicking too, asking and shouting about what was supposed to happen. "Gabe... Gabriel" you forced over your lips, looking to your side, searching for his eyes. He immediately had his attention on you with his eyebrows furrowed and teary eyes. "Call (F/N)." He nodded, not hesitating and grabbed your phone. "(Y/N)? What's up?" their voice rang through the speaker only seconds later but you were unable to answer as another painful contraction hit you. This was happening way to fast. Was this the angel side of your baby? Wasn’t there supposed to be a pause between the contractions? How were you supposed to breath through all this pain? "Here's Gabriel" the archangel managed to get out. "(Y/N) just got into labor." "What?! (Y/N)!" your friend yelled as a wave of shock also washed over them. "Hey" Gabriel said to get their attention. "We... she needs your help now. You have to tell us what to do." If you hadn't been in labor you would have been amazed by Gabe's calm voice. But one look at his face told you that it was only a facade, that he was more panicked than any of the other guys inside the room. "Okay, okay. At first ... tell me how far apart the contractions are" your friend requested after a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. Gabriel looked back at you and when your eyes met you felt the next one hit you. "There is no time between them or at least … there’s always pain. They are coming very fast. I-" you were able to groan when the pain washed away for a few seconds. "I think it's because of the angel genes. They're very strong and painful." "Alright, no time to lose then" your friend mumbled probably more to themselves. "You have to lay on your back, put a pillow behind your neck so it's more comfortable for you and you have to get rid of the pants." You looked at Gabe again, signaling him that you needed help with that. He nodded, putting the phone on your bedside table and helped you out of your pants. It was weird being exposed like that but to be fair you didn't really have much time to think about that as another wave of pain crushed over you, pressing your lungs down. "Someone has to check on the status of the baby" (F/N) said and maybe not very surprisingly Cas volunteered to do so. He seemed to have calmed down a bit while Sam and Dean were still pacing around. "Hoist your legs up so you can build up more strength and when the next contraction hits you have to press. And don’t forget to breathe!" You followed their instructions without question. "(Y/N)?" they asked after a few seconds. You answered with a half yelp that somewhat resembled a "Yes?". "I wish I was here to help you, I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I wanted you to enjoy New Year's Eve, too. Life is just unpredictable" you managed to say but after that everything became fuzzy again. This wasn't normal right? No, it wasn't. You were dying. This was the end. The realization hit you suddenly and almost knocked the air out of your lungs. You would die today. You whimpered, unable to form any words as you once again blindly reached out for Gabriel. A hand found yours and you immediately felt that it was his palm squeezing yours reassuringly. Your vision cleared only slightly and when you made out the archangel's face you saw the tears he had forced back all those weeks, the tears he had never let himself cry. "Can you see something already?" Was that Dean speaking? You couldn’t really tell but you knew that the one to answer should be Cas. "Yes, I can see some of the head." "Is she still breathing." "Yes! Now stop worrying her even more!" That had to be Gabe as his hand began to squeeze you harder. "You're doing great" the words echoed in your mind again and again and again. Was that Gabriel? You felt the tears wet your cheeks. You loved him so much. You didn't want this. You wanted more time. Why weren't you given more time? Why did this happen to you? Were you doomed from the very beginning? You couldn’t breath, the pain was too much, your whole body just stiffened up. "(Y/N)." Was this some sort of punishment? The contractions seemed to get even more frequent and even though you were supposed to press you felt your strength leave your body quickly. But this baby had to live, you wanted your baby girl to live. Squeezing the hand in yours tightly you focused every last drip of strength into pushing your baby out. "Out." "She's out." Your baby was out. You were still breathing. Was that screaming? "Gabe" you gasped as the room began to spin. You were so exhausted. All your energy seemed to have been sucked out of you. And that was when you noticed your vision getting out of focus once more but this time it seemed different ... final. A wave of panic crashed over you. No, no, no, no! You didn't want to go. You wanted to reach out to Gabe, opened your mouth. Say something! Another wave of pain tore through you, left you breathless. What was happening? Tears were streaming out of your eyes but you were able to detect one face looking down at you. Worried, honey colored eyes. Gabe! No, you- just say something! Say you love him! Your thoughts screamed at you to say anything... but you were unable to. You had no energy left. Everything turned to darkness.

____________________

"(Y/N)!" you squirmed under your blanket, not ready to wake up just yet. You felt something, or someone next to you and a hand on your shoulder slowly shaking you away but still you didn't really budge.

"Let me sleep" you complained and covered your head with the warm blanket. "Next time, sugar. Now you need to wake up."

You opened your eyes, pulling the blanket down and let them wander to Gabe's in shadow casted Form. Frowning you slowly sat up. This felt strangely familiar, like you were just experiencing a déjà-vu.

You sighed and followed Gabriel's instructions as he hoisted you up.

"Believe me, it will be worth it" he promised. You closed your eyes and rubbed the bridge of your nose. "I really hope you're right."

The next time you opened your eyes you stood in a snow covered landscape. "What-"

"Look up, sugar" he said and so you did. The sight left you breathless. Vivid colors were moving above you in a strange, hypnotic dance. Greens and blues and bright pinks. You were speechless. These were the northern lights.

"It's amazing" you whispered and pushed done strand of hair back. "Thank you."

This was all so familiar. Did you live through this before? You frowned, about to ask Gabriel when you felt a dull pain rush through your stomach. Gasping you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around yourself. This was strange.

"(Y/N)?!" Gabriel asked panicked and walked in front of you. He put his hands on your shoulders to straighten you up again. "Are you alright? Are you in pain? What's going on?" Yes, indeed. What was going on? What was this pain? The thoughts of a possible déjà-vu vanished in an instance as your mind just accepted everything.

For a few more seconds you didn't answer him and instead stared at the ground with your arms still tightly wrapped around yourself. You felt it again and it was then you realized what this was. You let out a pained laugh.

"Yes, everything's fine" you reassured the worried archangel with a small smile. Grabbing one of his hands which were still resting on your shoulder you directed it to your still growing bump. You had to wait a few moments with your hand on top of his before you felt it again. Gabriel flinched and you still saw worry in his eyes but when he looked up from your stomach and searched for your gaze, he slowly relaxed when he saw the softness in your eyes.

"Are these...?"

"Her first kicks? Yes."

In the next couple of seconds you saw every emotion washing over his face. Happiness, relief, love, peace, joy but also worry, fear and panic. But it wasn't the type of panic that shook to your core, making your tense up and freeze. No, it was that type of panic a soon to be Dad had when realizing he would have to care for a small helpless baby soon. It was the first time you saw this fatherly panic on his face every since the beginning, ever since the big news of you being pregnant.

"She's quite strong. Knocked the air right out of me" you huffed while intervening your free hand with his other hand.

"Archangel genes" Gabriel laughed.

"Yes" you breathed, leaning into his touch with a smile. You two stayed like that for many moments more, enjoying each other's presence underneath the fantastical sky.

It indeed was your happiest day.

            The End. ____________________

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - part 4

The fourth part is finally here, I’m sorry it’s been so long!

To be honest, I’m really disappointed with this chapter, I feel like I haven’t been able to write down what I really wanted to transmit. It was a really important part for me and no matter how bad I think it is, I won’t be able to do better, I’ve made it too personal for that sooo I still hope it’s okay!

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

The first of September was near and it looked like all the students had begged their parents for one last trip at what had become their favourite place in the world. To be fair, Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a beautiful shop, and it looked even more alive now that most of the other shops in Diagon Alley had disappeared. 

“I don’t understand why your name isn’t on the storefront.” Mrs Hoggs, an old lady who couldn’t refuse her grandson any visit here, was looking for a few Sickles in her bag. “I mean, you’ve helped with this shop, right? You should have your part of recognition, that’s all I’m saying.” she added without letting me a second to reply. 

Her eyes fell on the picture that was hanging on the wall right behind me. It had been taken on the inauguration of the shop, and I was squeezed between Fred and George in front of the dream of a life. If Mrs Hoggs was particularly obsessed by the fact that I “didn’t have enough recognition”, she wasn’t the only one wondering why I seemed to be “left on the sidelines”. That was so annoying that even her grandson sighed. 

“Aren’t you bothered? If you want my opinion…” Mrs Hoggs kept babbling. She was so passionate by her one-sided debate that I exchanged an exasperated look with her grandson. “Oh, Mr Weasley!” she suddenly exclaimed at the very moment Fred’s arm wrapped around me. “I was talking about-”

“I know, Mrs Hoggs, I’ve heard that same speech a few times already.”

Fred smiled kindly, and I once more wondered how he would stay so calm in all circumstances. 

“And we don’t need to change the shop’s name for the very good reason that one day, Y/N will be a Weasley too.” 

Fred left with a broad smile on his lips, leaving me alone with a flabbergasted Mrs Hoggs and my shaky legs. Suddenly, my heart was beating harder than ever and I could have sworn my cheeks had never been that red. 

“Can I have my pygmy puff now?”

_ _ _ 

I found Fred lying on the couch, his eyes closed and an arm thrown on his face. Thinking he was sleeping, I silently grabbed the brush I had left on the table and detangled my hair, which were still wet from the hot shower I had just taken. I headed to Fred with the intention to wake him up, but his steady breath and his peaceful attitude made me stop. It was more and more rare that Fred was calm, and no matter how hard they tried to hide it, I knew that both he and his twin were worried sick. About the war, obviously, but I was willing to bet that they were also scared for me. Without realizing it, I had sat just in front of him and modeled my breathing after his. 

“Are you going to watch me like this for long?” Even though his voice was quiet, I jumped and looked away, slightly embarrassed. “Hey, love, come here.”

Fred opened his arms and I curled up against him like a cat. He embraced me and pulled me against his torso as hard as he could without hurting me, and at the moment I wanted nothing but being closer to him. But instead, I murmured in his ear, scared my voice would either show how overwhelmed I was or how desperate. 

“Did you mean it? What you said at the shop, did you really mean it?”

Fred shivered, and a part of my brain realized it was the effect of my voice. 

“Of course I meant it. I love you Y/N, and I think Y/N Weasley sounds more than good.”

I wanted to say so many things, that I loved him too, more than anything else in this world or every other world, that I wanted to be his for the rest of my life, I wanted to find a good joke to avoid expressing my deepest feelings, but I found myself unable to do that. Instead, I smiled, broadly, and I kissed him. 

“Fred, Y/N, are you- Merlin, not again!”

Fred groaned and let go of me, and I got up to face George’s amused look. 

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to find an apartment of your own? I mean, as much as I tolerate you, always walking in on you snogging is getting annoying.”

George was smirking, but in fact, the three of us knew what the situation was. The war was imminent, the terror had taken an important place in our lives and the only future we could see was uncertainty. No matter what he would say, George didn’t want to let us go, nor did Fred and I want to leave. That’s also why talking about a wedding was so strange for me. For all that we knew, we could be all dead within the next month. 

“Is there a reason why you interrupted us?” suddenly asked Fred to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“Actually, yes. Mum is going to kill us if we aren’t at the Burrow in an hour. You know how obsessed she’s been with Harry’s birthday.”

_ _ _ 

Once again, everything happened without me understanding anything. One second, Bill and Fleur’s guests were dancing and laughing, and for the first time in what felt like years I was genuinely smiling and enjoying a dance with Fred, and the second after everything was chaos and everyone was screaming. I didn’t know where George was, and I didn’t have any other choice than to assume he was alright. Fred jumped aside when a green flash of light flew toward him, grabbing my waist before falling on the ground. 

“Leave!” he screamed, gesturing toward the Burrow. 

I shook my head and pushed him out of another flash of light’s way. 

“Y/N, please, I need you to leave!”

To be honest, I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe it was something in Fred’s eyes; this pure terror that made them look almost black, or maybe it was because of the crack of his voice as he was begging me to leave. Maybe it was something else, an instinct that was murmuring that I had something else to do. I didn’t know, but I eventually nodded and gave my back to Fred. By now, a lot of guests had disappeared and I found a way to leave the tent quite easily - without paying attention to the Death Eaters trying to kill everyone, of course. 

And suddenly, I understood. I understood why something had made me leave Fred alone in the danger, I understood why my instinct prevented me from apparating away from the carnage. 

First, it took the form of a reflect, light and almost insignificant, a little golden spot in the darkness. I fixed it, and slowly, the shape of a person appeared. The silhouette was darker than black, and I knew the man’s soul was ten times worse. 

I had thought my hatred would get over my self control. I had spent so much time hating him, promising myself the most terrible of revenges, I had sworn he would die because of what he had done to Fred, and I had imagined this moment a thousand times. But I hadn’t imagined I would walk calmly toward him, toward the man who had tortured me and killed the first person who had ever loved me. I could have never imagined it, yet I was walking toward my father, almost a year and a half after the last time I had been in his presence. 

“I’m surprised.” he spoke up, and I shivered. Too many memories were flooding in my mind, things I had tried so hard to forget. “I thought you would have tried to kill me.”

The acid line I wanted to throw at his face stayed blocked in my throat, and all of sudden I found myself on the verge of crying. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling like I was a little girl again, trying to hold back her tears as her father was walking slowly toward her, a glass of whisky in one hand and a cane in the other. My eyes fell on what had produced the golden light, and I gasped when my necklace shone. Slowly, I lifted my hand, reproducing a gesture I had done a thousand times, except that this time my fingers found nothing.

“I wanted to talk to you.” he said, his voice calm as if he had never done anything to me. As if he had never tortured me. “I wanted to explain.”

He took a step forward and I took three backwards. My breathing was shaky, along with my legs and the rest of my body. For a few seconds, all I could see was the light hitting me, the chimney masked by a veil of tears, Mary bathed in a green light, and then my father’s figure, more terrifying than ever, and too close for my own good. 

“I want to explain why I will destroy everything you ever cared for.”

A hundred of Cruciatus curses would have been less painful than imagining him killing Fred, George, Molly, Arthur and all of those I had ever loved. My hands were shaking and only now did I notice I didn’t have my wand. 

He took a step, and I found myself unable to move. 

“I want you to know why I’ll make you suffer like I suffered.”

Everything else seemed to have disappeared. There was only him in front of me, and the weight of the promise he was making, a weight so heavy that I was suffocating and weakening more and more. 

“You killed the love of my life. I will kill you for that.”

He took another step, and my knees gave up on me. I fell on the ground and cowered, my eyes closed and the sound of my sobs hiding the other sounds. I didn’t see him, but I felt him kneeling in front of me. I desperately tried to regain control, I tried to remember Fred’s blood, Mary’s body, my own pain, but my brain was dizzy and I was unable to move. 

“But  won’t kill you now.” he whispered in my ear. “It would be too easy, don’t you think? I want you to be scared. I want you to wonder when I’ll come back for you. I want you to stop living, I want you to be scared of dying.” 

And, still unable to move, still paralyzed by his hold on me, I bit my lips to stop a scream when his fingers touched my skin, putting the necklace back around my neck. 

“You look like her.” he declared with a quiet voice, the one that had always scared me the most. “You look like your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

It was the first thing I managed to say, the words escaping my mouth despite the lump in my throat. As soon as they echoed in the night, I looked down and tensed, subconsciously waiting for a punishment. It was an old habit, and I doubted I would ever be able to get rid of it. 

“You killed her.” I added, feeling barely braver when he said nothing. 

He laughed with a terrible laugh, maniacal and without an ounce of joy. Only pure insanity. 

“No, you killed her. The Dark Mark killed her. Mary killed her. But me? I just loved her. And you killed her. We were perfect together, and you came between us. You got rid of her, I get rid of you. This is a good deal.”

It felt like I was another person when I noticed I was shaking. I could imagine the way my lips were trembling, the way my hands were hidden in the folds of my dress, and the way my eyes were full of tears. 

“I don’t understand…” I cried out, unable to do anything else than to express how broken I was and to despise myself for being so pathetic. “Mary- Mary was her friend and- you were the one who forbade her… I don’t understand… Please leave me alone, I don’t want to-”

“Oh no! No no no no no!” my father gave his back to me, taking a few steps forwards before turning again and throwing his arms to the sky. “Mary never listened to me! She never listened! She hated your mother, she let her die!” and he laughed, a laughter without life or joy, only insanity. His mouth was twisted in a strange way as if he was going to cry at the same time. “Mary killed her, the Dark Mark killed her, and you killed her.” 

Suddenly, he was dead serious again, the only sign showing any disturbance being the compulsive clenching of his fists. I almost crawled backwards, my eyes never leaving the hand that was holding his wand. 

“Looks like the fun is over. See you soon, Y/N.”

And he disappeared, leaving me alone and shaking on the grass, his silhouette burned in my retina for what I believed was forever. Only now did I realize how hard my heart was beating. It was pounding against my ribcage like a desperate animal trying to escape. I would have done anything to escape too, because my whole body seemed to have become a jail which role was to keep me ready for whenever my father would show up. 

Around me, everything was silent. Too silent, like the calm after the storm. As my brain was getting less clouded, I remembered what had happened before the moment I had ended up in front of my father. For a second, I wondered why the Death Eaters were so silent, then I understood they were gone. I only reacted when voices screamed my name. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N, where are you?”

I walked away, an unpleasant impression of being watched making me shiver. When I reached the first silhouette I had seen, the whole discussion with my father had begun to sink in me, and thousands of questions were invading my head. 

“Y/N?”

George took a few steps toward me, approaching slowly and talking with a small voice, as if he was in front of a wounded animal. Maybe he wasn’t wrong, maybe I was really a wounded animal, fragile and desperate to defend herself until her death which was obviously close. 

Thinking about my death made something crack in me; a wall I had struggled to build and that was supposed to protect me. When the wall completely broke, it stopped containing everything I had kept hidden for years. Every pain, every tear, every scream, it all came back to me with such a vigour that I fell back on my knees and I screamed. 

_ _ _ 

Without a word, Molly handed me a cup of tea in which she had added some firewhiskey. I was squeezed on the couch between Fred and George, still trembling even though sweat was covering my forehead. I didn’t even notice the few drops that fell on my dress when I lifted the cup, nor did I notice Fred’s arm around me. I didn’t see the concerned look exchanged between Arthur and Molly either, all of that because I was lost in my thoughts. My father had said so many things, but all of this couldn’t be true, right? 

“Your necklace,” murmured Fred. “Did he give it back to you?”

I promptly yanked it out with the very strong feeling that it had left a burn on my skin. My eyes fell on my closed fist in which I was clenching and something, an image, came back from the depths of my memory. Something that looked like a book under George’s arm as he was looking for the place where he had hidden Fred. A book I had never seen afterwards, because I had refused in the first place and then because I had forgotten it. A book that had to be pretty important for George to take him with him in the emergency. 

“The book.” I murmured. Fred shifted, Molly looked away. Something was wrong. “You still have it, right? I want to read it.”

“There’s nothing important in this book.” said George, his voice a bit too low for him to be honest. 

I looked at Fred, and he turned his head a bit too late. I had seen his eyes fixed on my fist.

“Fred, tell me.” 

He looked up, and his worried eyes met mine. He bit his lips before slowly taking my hands, looking quickly at George and Arthur before eventually sighing. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve hidden that to you, love. I thought- I thought you wouldn’t want to know it. The book was a sort of journal. It was written by your mother. She…”

My heart was pounding, it was the only thing I could hear besides Fred’s voice. 

“She was a Death Eater too. That’s why she was alone... That’s why she’s dead.”

The Dark Mark killed her. 

Tags: @pregnant-piggy​ @la3divine​

[inkedtae]

you’re perfect ⇾ knj. [F]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ friend!namjoon x student!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ f2l, mutual pining, fluff

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you get paired up with namjoon to work on an assignment, finding yourself falling for him harder than you expected

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 1.5k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ nope.

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ who isn’t soft of joonie? extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. if you have any requests, please send them my way. enjoy!

⤑ le playlist

You tapped your green pen against your notebook as your nerves went haywire. Your eyes were locked on the door, filtering through the students that entered and exited the campus cafe. The only thing on your mind was him. You let yourself spare a quick glance at the clock. It was five till ten, which meant he would be arriving any second now. You could feel your heart quicken at the thought of him, a cursed reaction you could never, for the life of you, control. But, then again, there were a lot of things you couldn’t control when he was near. Like your words. You suddenly lost the ability to keep your mouth shut when he was close by. You’d go on and on about the stupidest topics. You cringed as you recalled last week’s meeting and your never-ending rant on bread. Who the hell cares about its “soft and bouncy texture”? You shuddered at your words, shaking the memory away. The good news was you couldn’t possibly say anything worse than that…right? You refocused your attention back on the door. When you couldn’t spot him, you checked the clock behind the counter; five past ten. He was late. He had never been late before, always arriving fifteen minutes before the agreed time. This might just be a blessing in disguise. If he showed up later, that meant you had less time to embarrass further yourself. Yet, still, you stared at the door waiting fo- His hair was dark fawn, pushed back to expose his forehead. You had never felt my heart burst at the sight of a freaking forehead until now. Who told him that was allowed, and why the hell did he listen? You weren’t making it out of there alive. He smiled, displaying his cute dimples, and settled into the seat before you. “Hey,” he greeted, slightly breathless. My lips twitched as they stretched to return the smile. “Hi,” you breathed. Your eyes flickered to his shirt for a second. Loosely-fitted, it dangerously revealed his collarbone, and all your words failed you for once. This is it. This is how I die. “Sorry I’m late,” he chuckled, pulling out his notebook and yellow pencil case. “Three of my roommates attempted to make pancakes and almost burned down the entire apartment.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. You knew you’d only end up staring aimlessly into them while he awkwardly waited for you to say something. “It’s okay,” you muttered as you opened your notebook to the last page you two were on. He did the same, then leaned over the table, closer to you, trying to meet your distant gaze. “Everything okay?” he asked. You bit your lip to keep your nervous word vomit from taking over. You let yourself indulge in a quick glance, to which he offered a smile. You felt your heart scream and cry at the same time, fighting against your ribcage. You didn’t let yourself speak, knowing nothing good ever came out of it. You only nodded and forcefully redirected your focus to the scribbled page. He let out a small sigh. It was clear he wasn’t at all convinced but didn't push you any further as he returned to his previous posture and, too, focused on the task at hand. “So, we left off with the idea of using old, rusted bikes to explore the concept of distorted societies. I was thinking about it last night and even this morning. What if we further narrow it down to the lack of strong female representation in society? We can discuss the history of suffrage and talk about how women have only ever been humoured in society. Then, we can end the song with the demand that women be taken seriously and mention some strong female influencers and leaders who have proved others wrong.” Everything about Kim Namjoon was beautiful. He had a heart of gold, a mind of wonder, and a soul of kindness. You had never met someone with such understanding and awareness. Not to mention, he was a genius. He could truly take something as simple and mundane as rusted bikes and turn it into a feminist anthem. “I also think you should be the one to rap it,” he quietly added. You snapped your head to him, ignoring that playfully guilty look in his eyes. “But, I told you I don’t want to sing. You’re supposed to rap.” Your love ridden nerves crashed into your terrified ones. A lump started to develop in your throat as you started to feel dizzy. “I never said sing; I said rap,” he smirked. You shook your head, unable to wrap your mind around his words. “What makes you think I can rap?” He chuckled as his brows knitted together in confusion. “Do you not remember how you went off about bread last week? You practically wrote a verse about it.” He laughed again as you visibly cringed at the wretched memory. “And I’ll be rapping too,” he continued, “but I think you should carry most of the song considering it is about feminist and who better to guide us through the injustice against women than a woman.” He furrowed his brows, then picked up his pen and added, “I should probably write that down.” You attempted to suppress a smile at his dorkiness, a part of him that your heart couldn’t seem to get enough of. He looked back up and smiled at you, calming and erupting your nerves all at once. “So, will you do it?” “Do I even have a choice?” I chuckled. He smiled, “Of course you do.” Then, he scribbled in his notebook again, muttering, “That’ll make a great verse.”

You were late this time, rushing into the café with a look of complete guilt. Your hair was slightly messy, hidden under a red hat. Your frame was swallowed up by an oversized shirt that somehow also doubled as a dress, stopping at your knees, and an even bigger yellow jacket slipping off your shoulders. Namjoon’s heart burst at the sight. Who told you that was allowed, and why the hell did you listen? “I’m so sorry I’m late,” you sighed, settling in the seat before him. Worry contorted your face as you noticed his half-full cup of cold tea. “How long did I keep you waiting?” Namjoon thought about the last thirty minutes and shrugged, slightly shaking his head. “Not long at all.” He would’ve waited thirty hours if it meant he’d be able to see you again. “Really?” you asked, then quickly shook your head. “I’m still sorry though. My professor just wouldn’t shut up about his freaking cats. Who the hell knew someone could go on like that for thirty freaking minutes?” Namjoon suppressed a smile as he recalled your last few rants on bread, pyjamas, and the colour blue. You were so cute when you went on like that. He could listen to you talk all day. “I certainly didn’t,” he teased with a playful smirk. You rolled your eyes as a little smile of your own stretched upon your lips. Namjoon swore that smile was so pure it could cure diseases. He tried not to blush at the sight and asked, “So? What’s our grade?” Your song was presented last week. You were both supposed to be present but Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung decided their pancake attempt didn’t amount to as big of a failure as they desired. So, they tried to make waffles that morning and somehow all got shocked. Namjoon was forced to take them to the hospital with Jin and couldn’t be there to present with you. You ruffled through your back and pulled out a crumpled rubric. You offered a sheepish smile at the sight of the creased page and tried to flatten it on the table. Too cute. Namjoon was about to tell you it was okay, but you handed it to him before he could even open his mouth. A red A+ was circled over the page. He smiled up at you as a little laugh escaped him. Your cheeks tinted a bright pink, and you redirected your gaze to your lap. He glanced between the paper and your flushed features. He couldn’t stop thinking that this was his last chance to make something real out of whatever relationship you two already had. He mustered up whatever courage he could find and said, “We should celebrate. Are you free tonight?” You snapped your head up to him, eyes wide and face redder than your hat. “T-tonight?” you stuttered. When he nodded you asked, “Just the two of us?” Namjoon offered you half a grin, replying, “Yeah.” “So…” you trailed off, watching him carefully. “Like a – um, date?” Namjoon couldn’t help the rush of blood in his cheeks at your words. Your hesitance sent his love ridden and terrified nerves into a crashing frenzy. “Yes,” he muttered, unable to fully trust his voice. You smiled, rapturing his heart, “Tonight’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

[saeryuart]

Ikevamp Hugger Tiers

... Welcome to the first and last piece of writing I’ll likely ever post on here lmao. I couldn’t get this outta my head and this happened XD If your guy happens to be one of the lower tiers, sorry! 

The entire list is just how I think it would go, soooo yeah. Though funnily enough, the guys listed in the tiers themselves aren’t necessarily in order lmao. 

Includes Vlad and Charles! Because it’s gonna be a long af post, writing is under the cut!

TOP TIER HUGGERS

Napoleon:

-Honorary member #1 of the #GotThisSquad

-Man radiates big bro energy, and if you don’t know it right now, you WILL know it when he takes you in his arms. They’re warm, strong and protective.

The kinds of hugs he tends to give vary between being playful or protective. If he’s feeling playful, he’d probably hug you from behind and murmur teasing, loving remarks in your ear. He’s particularly fond of nuzzling his cheek in your hair.

-Man’s also got big hands, great for holding your waist, along with other things mhmmm~ ;)) they’re great for making you feel even more secure than you normally would, and that’s saying a lot

-With his hugs, he wants to tell you he’s not only protecting your body, but your heart and soul if you’re willing. They’re all encompassing, and are always gonna have you feeling safe, no matter what

-Sleepy hugs are arguably the best kind of hugs to receive from him though, bc all filters are off. Any reservations the man might normally have are gone as he pulls you into bed to hug the life outta you 

-Hope you don’t have any important plans for the day bc you’ll be stuck there with his face buried in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you like a cat. 

-Please hug him, you won’t regret it. .... If you don’t have plans.

Overall rating: 9/10

Comte:

-Leader of the #GotThisSquad, man knows what he is doing

-He’s super observant of people by nature, so he’ll know immediately what it is you want. You someone that’s more energetic and wants tight hugs? That’s what you’re gonna get. You’re a shy, hesitant bean that isn’t quite used to contact? He’s gotchu girl~ He’ll hold you gently but loosely, so you have the chance to step away if you want to

-but if he had it his way, he would put the person in the gentlest but secure hold. Especially fond of having his hands stroke their hair and back.

-Speaking of which, his hands are like magic, able to melt your worries and tensions away. They just coax you into relaxing in his arms

-He personally prefers to be the one doing the holding, but if you want to spoil him, you don’t need to work that hard to convince him - running your fingers through his hair is a surefire way to make a contented sigh escape his lips.

-It’s a bone-deep kind of satisfaction that Comte wouldn’t trade for anything in the world, cherishing the person in his arms

-It doesn’t matter whether you’re happy or sad, he’s your go-to person if you’re in need of a hug

Overall rating: Sugar Daddy/10

Vincent:

-Final member of the #GotThisSquad.

-Like a warm summer day, his hugs are super soft and sweet. Somehow, despite being a painter and hardly stepping out of the mansion, he smells like freshly washed sheets.

-His hands are gentle and soft, but a little calloused from constantly washing and handling his art supplies and paintings.

-While holding you, expect sweet nothings to be whispered in your ear. Man loves you so much, he has to make sure you know everything that’s in his thoughts, EVERYTHING.

-His fingers tend to absently trace all the little things he loves about you; your hair, your cheeks, your lips, the way your eyes shine when they reflect his own loving gaze in yours... it all makes him want to hold you more and never let go.

-Particularly fond of holding your hand while hugging you, intertwining your fingers together as naturally as breathing. Also enjoys touching foreheads with your own, staring into your eyes.

-He hopes he makes you feel as beautiful as he sees you.

Overall rating: Sunshine Boi/10 **sobs** 

HIGH TIER HUGGERS

Leonardo:

-BLAST FURNACE.

-This man is a portable heater who can’t stand not being in your arms for 0.000001 seconds. Especially when he’s ready to take a nap.

-Great during Winters, but the Summer... welp. Run MC. Other than that though, he gives great bear hugs.

-He’s so huge, he literally dwarfs any and everything under that hugeass coat. TBH you’ll either hate it or love it, depending on how good your blood circulation is lmaooo

-Man likes giving back hugs when in a teasing mood, but when he’s feeling more romantic, he prefers you to be facing him. Odds are, he’ll be pulling you into his arms, hand tucking the back of your head into his chest.

-His bear hugs are reassuring, those broad arms and strong chest doing wonders in making you feel safe and secure. Depending on how tall you are, he’d pull you into his chest or the crook of his neck. ... And did I mention that chest? Damn Daddy.

-Odds are, he’s gonna smell like tobacco too. If you don’t like that sorta thing, that could be something of a turnoff. Man’s a giant too, so odds are you’re going to be an armrest half the time, rip.

Overall rating: 8/10

Arthur:

-Like his personality, his hugs are playful and endearing. He LOVES cuddles and by Jove, if Arthur Conan Doyle wants cuddles, he WILL get cuddles.

-Repeat after me. CLINGY. MAN.

-It’s practically canon that, like a puppy, he wants your attention on him ALL THE TIME. So eye contact is a must, lots of small kisses peppered across your face to make you laugh; your laughter never fails to make his heart skip a beat.

-Skinship is practically a requirement, it’s Arthur’s love language. Up there with gift giving.

-He loves holding your waist while breathing in your scent in the crook of your neck. He wants to be enveloped by you, your presence assures him more than anything. But that doesn’t mean the hugs are a one-sided thing, either.

-If in a particularly good mood, he’ll hum some random English tune while swaying you side to side. Sometimes, that swaying might evolve into a full-blown dance, with him twirling you around the mansion floor with laughter.

-With you, he always wants you to feel as good as you make him, for you bring out the best side of him.

Overall rating: 8.5/10

Vlad:

-0/10, momma didn’t raise you to fall for no shady man, wouldn’t recommend.

-KIDDING, I’M KIDDING. .... Mostly.

-Bc he’s such a shady man with little to no experience in physical contact, one would think a hug from him would be the worst idea one could have if they ignored his pretty face and bewitching eyes-

-Warning: Once he’s in love, his hugs are the singular most addicting thing besides his kisses. MAYDAY, MAYDAY, ABORT!! Man is dangerously attractive, and he knows it.

-Bc he’s always around flowers, he always smells great. Like nectar from the sweetest flower, his sweet, honeyed words would coax you over until, before you know it, you’re trapped within his arms.

-He’s not planning on letting go either, because only he deserves to see such beauty and tend to it. As far as he’s concerned, the other weeds he calls ‘men’ could be nipped in the bud ok that’s enough flower puns, I promise.

-His hugs are unbelievably gentle, but possessive. You’ll be handled so delicately, you’d wonder if he mistook you for glass - no, even glass was handled with less care than how he’s holding you right now.

-He has to have eye contact while holding you. No exceptions. He has to know, what are you thinking right now? If you feel like breaking away, surely he has other ways of convincing you...

Overall rating: Intervention/10

Charles:

-TACKLE HUUUUUUGSSSS

-Hope you have a strong back, because he won’t be able to resist glomping you over half the time.

-If he’s particularly excited, he’ll be playfully swinging you around after. You getting dizzy? Tooooo bad, maybe after a couple more minutes. As long as you don’t throw up, babe~

-Man may be a doctor but dammit, he has the right to cuddle his honey, too! Hmm, this sounds familiar. Must be a doctor thing.

=Nose boops and cheek rubs. All that disgustingly cheesy and playful shit that makes anyone watching gag from the diabetes. 

-If he’s feeling mischievous enough, he might bury his nose into the crook of your neck to blow hot air on your skin to make you squirm. It never fails to make him giggle.

-His main focus is making you laugh and have a good time, nothing else matter.s He likes the way laughter makes your eyes crinkle juuust right~

Overall rating: 7.5/10 bc his hugs will break someone’s back one day-

MID-TIER HUGGERS

Dazai:

-A surprisingly decent hugger.

-One wouldn’t think him capable of giving hugs with such genuity and emotion, unless you were the person he were doing it to. These special hugs are especially private, reserved for the irreplacable person in Dazai’s life.

-Despite his appearances, he is a compassionate person deep down, and wants to see you happy. Especially as the one who taught him to care for his own life.

-Like Arthur, he likes making you laugh. With his arms encircling your middle from behind, he likes giving surprise tickles to make you squeak and jump, promting his own quiet chuckles. Your reactions never fail to amuse him.

-His hugs are literally breathtaking, because you’ll be too busy squirming with breathless laughter to escape out of his arms. It makes his eyes light up in a way that’s startlingly different from the smile he shows the others; the closest thing to a true smile.

-For more somber moments, he holds you like he’s never going to hold you again. You can feel how much he cherishes you with how gently but securely he embraces you. He likes doing it from behind so you don’t have to see the pained expression on his face as he holds your hand for comfort.

-The only real downside is that again these hugs are especially private, so no one else gets to see. A shame too, or not, depending on how you look at it. uwu

Overall rating: Soft sad boi/10 whoops I kinda accidentally turned this into angst.

Isaac:

-Awkward Blushy Boi #1.

-Bc he’s so awkward and shy, his hugs are gonna be stiff af at first. He might not even respond at all, depending on how startled he is. Or how fast you let go of him

-If you do let go first, he’s gonna be lowkey highkey disappointed.

-Good thing is, because his hands are so used to delicate work, his touch is gentle and precise. So if you’re sensitive to physical sensations, he’ll pick up on that. If he does manage to brush against a sensitive area, expect a ton of stammered apologies and red cheeks.

-At first, his initial touches are shaky and unsure. But when he starts to gain confidence, his hands are curious and careful.

-Give him some time to let the hedgehog bristles come down a bit, and you’ve got yourself a teddy bear. Unfortunately, his hugs are going to remain awkward for some time bc-

-wHAT IF HE HOLDS YOU FOR TOO LONG, WOULD YOU GET ANNOYED??? DOES IT COME OFF AS TOO CLINGY, WHAT IF- ***incoherent anxious screaming into the void***

-Error: Isaac Newton has stopped working.exe

-Once he gets used to you though, his hugs become super comforting. Boy’s a string bean, so his arms aren’t the most buff. But the way he holds you is so awkwardly sweet, you can feel the sincerity behind his actions.

-Please give him a chance, he’s so worth it T_T

Overall rating: 7/10

Jeanne:

-Awkward Blushy Boi #2

-Similarly to Isaac, he’s super standoffish at first, especially with the whole ‘don’t touch me, you’ll get dirty blah blah blah’ spiel sHUT UP AND LET ME LOVE YOU.

-Don’t expect him to ever initiate hugs, not at first. It’s a long work in progress with this man. But pls stick with him, he is so, so worth it.

-Jeanne isn’t a person that gives away affection lightly, so whenever he hugs you, expect him to mean it. You will be weak-kneed at the sheer compassion and warmth behind his actions, even through his gloves.

-But if you do ever hug him, even though it’s hesitant, he’ll never fail to hug you back bc he’s a soft boi that doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

-Despite having the tendency to push people away,his hugs are gentle and protective. They let you know you’re safe and not alone. Giver #2 of great comfort hugs.

-Once he’s comfortable, he’ll like the feeling of your bare skin against his palms, so he’ll start hugging you with his gloves off.

-Develops a habit of gently rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand; he likes how small they feel in his own. It makes him feel protective, renewing his vow of keeping you safe.

-Unfortunately, he gets points deducted for never initiating contact at first, as well as his hugs being rather stiff for a long time.

Overall Rating: 6.5/10 pls love-

Sebastian:

-Hugging? When you could be WORKING?? It’s more likely than you think.

-Man is normally reserved, and not one for physical contact. But his touch is surprisingly gentle and reassuring. Particularly if you’re feeling upset or stressed.

-He’s fond of back rubs and closeness as he’s holding you. Tucking your head under his chin, his hold is gentle but firm, reminding you of your good qualities and what he loves about you. 

-Because he’s not as remarkable as the other men in the mansion, he might need some extra reassurance that he’s good enough for you. He’ll appreciate it if you rub his back, especially after a rough day. 

-Under those gloves, his hands are rough and calloused from his work as a butler, but the way he embraces you couldn’t be more deliberate or careful.

-Sebastian considers you his little miracle, the fact that you came from the same timeline as him gives him a new level of comfort as a piece of home away from home.

-Despite his strictness during work, he makes sure you know how much you really mean to him. While he disapproves of PDA in front of the residents, he doesn’t mind sneaking a cuddle now and then... in privacy of course.

-But despite these qualities, the problem with Sebastian’s hugs is that they hardly get a chance to happen.

-Man is too busy working himself to death helping the mansion residents, and has an 18-hour work schedule everyday to spend time with you. Someone save him bls. You’ll be doing both of yourselves a favor.

Overall rating: Workaholic/10

LOW-TIER HUGGERS (I’m so sorry)

Theo:

-Ah yes, Hondje fetish man.

-Like his brusque personality, his grip may be a tad rough, but the way he holds you is protective and gentle. Likes holding the back of your head close to him, arm secure around your waist; he likes the feeling of you belonging to him

-Theo doesn’t really do comfort hugs. Unless your life was in danger or something, he’s much more likely to just pull you in when he feels like having cuddles hugs. Processing emotional depth greater than familial love is a bit of a learning curve for the man. He’s trying.

-His hold is possessive, but affectionate. He likes pulling you in close by the hip when in public; man claims he’s not big into PDA, but he’s proud of his girlfriend and WILL show that off, dammit. 

-Also claims he’s not clingy, but he’ll hold onto you for as long as physically possible until he has to let go. So you’d better not be thinking of going anywhere Hondje, not when you have your Master to please. Yeah, sure ok sounds fake but ok.

-He doesn’t initiate hugs often, but he likes holding you in quiet moments when you’re alone. Not that he’ll admit that out loud. Like Vincent, he likes touching foreheads with yours to stare into your eyes. They’re like the perfect works of art to him, a masterpiece he can stare at for hours. He likes how expressive they are, the way they light up in so many different ways whether you’re happy, angry or excited.

-Honestly, despite the loving shit I give him, he’s only barely in this tier for a couple reasons. But one of them is that he’s not really an affectionate kind of hugger. Theo’s the kind of guy that expresses his love through uh... other physical means. If you catch my drift~ >3

-All in all, his hugs are protective and strong, but also a little rough. Perfect if you want to be assured of your relationship and loved, but not really recommended if you’re looking for something comforting and soothing. 

-TLDR: His hugs are warm, but not versatile. Honest Tsunderes die if they are killed

Overall rating: 6/10

Mozart:

-Awkward Blushy Boy #3. The holy trinity is complete.

-Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to rank Mo as the worst hugger of the mansion guys for a couple reasons. One being his lack of human contact.

-Like Isaac, his hands are very careful. He cherishes you, and wants you to feel the devotion he has for you, so he often handles you as gently as he does his violets.

-But the stage to get there is unbearably long. Like, Jeanne kinda long. In fact, Mo is someone that, (even after he gets together with you), thinks that people only approach him when they have an angle, something to gain from him. But that doesn’t mean he holds back with you.

-His initial hugs are awkward at best, the but number of ways he hugs you is as innumerable as his compositions. A loving, encasing hug for a declaration of affection, a passionate intense embrace when recovering from a close call, entwining of fingers in a quiet moment... you’ll have it all. 

-He sometimes hums some songs in your ear while holding you, particularly if you’re upset. His hand will also be rubbing soothing and gentle circles in your back. Mozart is a passionate, empathic man deep down, and will accept nothing less than your complete comfort.

-Unfortunately, while his hands are beautiful and practically close to perfection in appearance, they’re awfully cold from poor circulation. Doesn’t help that he’s a literal vampire.

-The temperature difference is bound to make you jump a little, but he makes up for it with his gentleness. It’s also why he likes stroking your hair, entwining his fingers together around your waist so you don’t feel the cold as much.

-But the big reason points get deducted off is-

...... I see you reaching for the Purell, asshole. >:(

Overall Rating: Ice Hands/10

Shakespeare:

-D.... do i really need to explain this? ;;

-Don’t get me wrong, the man is very romantic. He never fails to whisper sweet words to sweep you off your feet. Hushed poetics and compliments flow out of his lips with ease, making you feel like a princess in his arms.

-However, like Mozart, his hands are cold from poor circulation. Not to mention... do you smell a hint of blood, coming from him? No, it’s just your imagination, he swears.

-Like the man himself, his embraces are very passionate. He loves holding you close by the waist, making sure your bodies are touching as much as possible. He’s rather fond of bringing a lock of your hair to his lips, kissing it with the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

-He’s also rather... possessive. When he’s feeling particularly sly, he embraces you sensually from behind, resting his chin on top your shoulder. The way his arms slowly rise to curl around your waist feel like the sweetest trap you can’t bring yourself to escape.

-He’s also one that silently demands eye contact. As he keeps a hold of your waist, he likes to cradle your cheek tenderly, the mismatched wild yellow and blood red faze staring into your soul. The way he searches your eyes for your secrets steals your breath away, as the devotion he pours into the act belies any falsehoods he might’ve told.

-Again, this man is very devoted. Loves you to the point of obsession, really, But would I recommend hugging him personally? Aha ha ha haaa... gimme a while on that one. When the knife he has in his pocket isn’t poking my stomach. And NO, I don’t mean the one you want.

Overall rating: Romantic until someone dies/10 (I SEE those knives sticking out of your coat pocket Shakes, I want your arms, not the damn Iron Maiden).

Faust:

-Man wants you as a guinea pig. Why would you want to hug that. 

-...  Idk enough of him to actually add more than that. Sorry lmao.

Overall rating: Death wish???/10

--- Wow, I am never doing that again sdlkfjsd. I think my wrists have died along with my sinuses making this post lmao. Hopefully everyone was relatively in character! If you actually managed to sit through all of this, you deserve a big round of applause, seriously. I think I’ll stick to drawing tho, kek.

[wistfulcynic]

For the end of year asks. You’ve answered 10, 8, and 3, so I want 1, 2, 4-7, and 9... don’t shoot me please... 😘

Of course, if you’ve already answered some of the others, you can skip those too...

😲. I’m... not sure that's how you play the game?? But okay, buckle in. 

1. What’s your personal favourite thing you wrote this year?

I’ve written a lot of things I liked this year. Unlike previous years I don’t think there’s anything I don’t feel good about. I think for favourite I’d have to go with ...and held her in my arms, because it turned out pretty much exactly as I envisioned it and I like the intensity of the pining, and The Bend of the Arc, because it was such a stretch for me and I really like the end result. That and the comments on it were just so lovely. 

2. What’s your least favourite thing you wrote this year?

As I said above I’m happy with everything from this year, but I guess the one I'm least happy with is where none intrudes. I kind of feel like my head wasn’t quite in the right place and I wrote it too quickly. It could have been better if I'd taken more time. Ironically, it is my most popular Tumblr post ever. 

4. Which of your fics this year was most successful?

On Tumblr, it was where none intrudes which still continues to get random notes. On AO3 (and I'm discounting Moonlight here because that started last year) it currently stands at Error 404 by a single kudo over the stars through our souls. 

5. Which of your fics do you wish was more successful?

I guess that depends on what successful means? I wouldn’t have minded more people reading A Uniquely Portable Magic because I think it’s some of the best descriptive writing I've ever done, but the ones who did read it gave such amazing feedback I consider it a success. The Fire of the Frost had the worst reception I’ve ever experienced on Tumblr, which I kind of expected because sequels are always less popular than the original and Moonlight was also a dud on Tumblr. But I’m still disappointed, I had thought it would do a bit better than it did. Like I thought it would flop but maybe not leave behind an actual indent in the ground. 

6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Oof. I’m sure I'm overlooking something, but one scene I really like is this one from The Bend of the Arc. There are a couple of good exchanges in that fic I think but this one is where we really see the connection between them. Putting it below a cut as it’s long!

Emma popped the last bite of soufflé into her mouth and resisted the urge to lick her fingers. Instead she sipped her champagne and looked around for another tray. One passed by bearing what looked like tiny donuts and she almost dove to grab one. Biting into it, she found that it was savoury and filled with a feather-light truffled chicken mousse. She closed her eyes on a moan of delight, and when she opened them again Killian Jones was standing in front of her, watching her with an expression she found deeply objectionable.

“Well, darling, I do hope you’re not here for me this time,” he said.

Emma sneered. “I’m not.”

“Learnt our lesson, have we?” he replied with a smirk.

She ground her teeth. “I’ve simply got bigger fish to hook,” she said.

“Indeed. Considering that I am an entirely innocent man.”

She snorted.

“That infuriates you, doesn’t it,” he observed, smirk deepening. “That I walked free.”

Nearly a year’s worth of frustration and righteous fury bubbled up inside Emma, bursting forth before she could stop it. “It’s not right!” she exclaimed. “It’s not justice!”

“No, it’s just not perfect justice. Though one certainly could argue that a decade spent under the thumb of a madman is more than enough punishment for whatever crimes I committed.”

Something in his voice troubled her, a pained sincerity that niggled at her conscience. She ignored it. “Rationalise it all you like, if it helps you sleep at night,” she retorted.  

“Oh, I have no trouble sleeping,” he said, stepping closer and leaning into her space, hips first. “Though occasionally I do forgo it voluntarily, in favour of more… enjoyable activities.”

“You’re filthy.”  

“I certainly can be,” he purred. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want nothing from you.”

“Well love, we both know that’s not true.”

“Oh do we?”

“We do. You’re something of an open book, you see.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am the opposite of that.”

“You’d like to be. But for those who know how to look, your tells are obvious.”

“Bullshit.”

He shifted, standing straighter and observing her with blue eyes that went, between one blink and the next, from flirtatious to coolly assessing, sharply analytical. She felt a flare of alarm in her chest, and the worrying suspicion that she may have underestimated him.  

“The relaxed posture,” he said. “That’s one. You’re a woman of action, rarely still. If you stop moving you start thinking, and you, Emma Swan, hate nothing more than being in your own head. You’re tense all the time unless you’re pretending not to be, as you are now. Playing the role of carefree society girl, perfectly at home in these glittering surroundings where you are in actual fact deeply uncomfortable.”

She attempted a laugh. “Maybe I’m just having a good time.”

“You’re holding that glass so tightly you’re in danger of snapping the stem, and you’re digging the heel of your shoe into the floor. It takes a lot of effort to maintain that outward calm, which is why you don’t normally bother. You hate artifice, bullshit as you would call it, and your plan tonight is to get in, get your mark and get out. After you’ve eaten your fill of the food, that is.” The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “Do correct me if any of this is wrong.”

“It’s all wrong,” she snapped.  

“Now, love, don’t you start to bullshit.”

Emma’s fingers clenched tighter on the champagne glass and she deliberately forced them to relax. “Why don’t you just leave me alone,” she hissed.

His eyes softened, and heated with an expression that made her belly clench. “Because you intrigue me,” he murmured.  

“Well you disgust me.”

He laughed. “Liar.”

“How dare you—”

He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, his fingers close enough that she could feel the heat of them but not their touch, and when he spoke again his voice was rough. “You’ve a delightful pale pink flush all across your skin, your pupils are dilated, your breathing shallow. And your pulse—” His hand glided down her arm and wrapped around her wrist, fingertips pressing gently onto her pulse point. “It’s racing, love. I don’t require any special skills to pick up on these tells.” He caught her gaze, his own heated and intense. “Would it help if I confessed that the attraction is entirely mutual?”

“No!”  

“Pity.”

She tried to pull her arm from his grip but he held fast, leaning closer still to murmur in her ear. “He’s over by the fountain.”

She wouldn’t look, thought Emma. She wouldn’t. She closed her eyes as Killian released her and the heat and intoxicating scent of him moved away. She didn’t want his help, didn’t need it. Resented it. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking and of course there he was. Her mark, standing in front of the fountain at the centre of the room.

“How the hell did you know—” she spun around but Killian was gone.

7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?

Unquestionably the beginning of Portable Magic. 

He’s not sure what draws him through the door. The look of it, perhaps, the twisted grain and the knotholes, polished to a patina by centuries of wind and rain and hands upon it. Some hands much like his own and others very different. He finds comfort in that, as he places his hand on the door. His hand.

His only hand.

On the other side of the door is a bookshop. He knew that of course, from the sign in the window, another thing tempting him inside. It’s far too long since he read a good book, too long since he let himself get lost in stories other than his own. He’s not quite ready for what he sees.

The shelves are made of the same wood as the door. Carved from it, it seems. Hewn might be the word. The knobbly, knothole-y wood that even his limited carpentry knowledge tells him could not form straight shelves. It doesn’t, yet they hold the books. Row upon row of them, dizzying rows. His head spins when he tries to look at them, like a kaleidoscope or a funhouse mirror, too many things, too many angles, too little space.

He blinks, and everything is fine again. It’s just a bookstore.

“It’s just a bookstore,” he tells the cat in the window, a huge grey tabby with long, silky fur and pale blue, unblinking eyes.

“Of course it is,” the cat replies. “What were you expecting?”

“I—what?”

“Meow,” says the cat.

...and this paragraph 

He sits at the table and opens the book at the top of the pile, glances into it, and is absorbed. It’s the tale of a lonely man, a wanderer without a home who finds his place in the hearts of those he meets along his travels. It grips him so entirely that he fails to notice Ruby as she sets a pot of tea before him, with a mismatched cup and saucer and a plate bearing a thick slice of cake, fragrant with lemon and dotted with plump blueberries. Absently he prepares his tea—a splash of milk, no sugar—and sips it as he reads. It has a bright, floral aroma but a rich flavour that reminds him of the Earl Grey his brother favoured, and he has to pause for a moment to allow the ache to pass. It does, faster than it once did, and so he risks another sip and sighs this time in pleasure. It’s delicious. He settles deeper into the chair and the book, sips the tea and nibbles the cake and doesn’t notice either one disappearing or the afternoon sunshine fading into twilight beyond the windows until Ruby comes to clear the table with a clatter of silver on porcelain. 

9. If you could go back and change something about one of the fics you wrote this year, what would it be?

I have a difficult relationship with all the perfect things (that I doubt) because part of me loves it and part thinks maybe I should have made some different choices. I guess it’s just that there are so many options for that scenario and I kind of want to write all of them (but also there is NO TIME, so don't get any ideas, woman!). 

-

um, I would say send me an end of year ask, but Krystal has ASKED THEM ALL

[foolgobi65]

Lois/Clark + travel au + fake dating + “are you sure this is legal?”

again, its kind of a fake marriage and...also again....this is kind of the set up for the fake marriage scenario? i basically used this as an opportunity to write down a bunch of my lois headcanons for a period after superman reveal but before the get together lmao but i hope you still like it!! thank you so much for sending the prompt, i love lois sm and this was i think the first time i’ve really written from her (or actually written out lois and clark lol) so everyone please send feedback re: lois and clark characterizations!!!!

love u to the moon and back!!!!

---

“Clark, what does legal really mean, other than the things our government arbitrarily decided we’re allowed to do?”

Next to her, Clark rolls his eyes and Lois tries not to show the awe that briefly floods her body when she remembers that Superman is Clark is Superman is Clark, which means that when he responds to her quip, it’s not only as Smallville but as Kal-El, who she once named ‘the Man of Tomorrow.’ 

“Nice to see Libertarian Lois make an appearance,” Clark-El quips, and Lois nearly melts. It’s been about a month since what she, agnosto-sympathetic as she’s always been, termed in her own mind as the Revelation. Clark is Superman is Clark, she reminds herself as she always has to, to keep herself from running in as many directions as she can, vainly trying to outrun the fastest man alive. 

Being, maybe. Because he’s not really a man, is he?

Clark, Lois thinks again. Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas. Son of Martha. Man, man, man. Lois is no fool to think that he could really be anyone else -- Clark, for all that he’s apparently lied to her, couldn’t possibly have lied about this. Superman had always seemed so aloof, so removed from the daily grind of humanity’s issues: sure, he’s saved plenty of cats up trees, but Lois had always wondered if he understood why those cats were so beloved, or worse if he saw humanity as the perennial cat constantly stuck up in trees of its own making. But she hadn’t known Superman, really, hadn’t thought she would be able to. 

Not like she’d known Clark. Clark, of the long-form article following the production of a single plaid shirt he’d been wearing on Monday during the week’s pitch meeting. Clark, who was always falling into step right next to Lois no matter where she was, or who she was up against, his heart the only one that burned like Lois when confronted with the nastiness of the world. 

Clark, who Lois has always considered the most human man she ever met. Clark who is somehow biologically, the least human man in the universe.

“Lois?” Clark’s voice is just slightly strained as if he can hear the thoughts scurrying round and round Lois’s mind, but no Lois had asked about that during those first few terrifying days when up had seemed like down and she’d felt like the shittiest investigative reporter since Arnab Goswami. Clark couldn’t read minds, not really, he’d said -- he could at most see the neurons firing (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought?) but he hadn’t tried to figure out a pattern. 

“But I don’t watch your neurons,” he’d said with what then-Lois had recognized as a hint of human-Clark, who she later realized was just-Clark’s shit-eating grin. “Your mind makes me dizzy enough when I’m just observing from the outside. Can’t imagine what would happen if I was trying to follow your thought process in real-time.” 

Now-Lois shakes her head slightly, unattractive like a wet dog. “Sure it’s illegal to impersonate a pair of massage therapists, but you’re an extraterrestrial traveler, Clark. Do the mighty dictums of the United States really mean that much to you?” 

She knows almost as soon as the last half of the sentence leaves her lips that it’s the wrong thing to say. Clark’s from Kansas, just like he always said. He was raised in Kansas, with Kansas values whatever the hell that means. Christ, she thinks, she’s never been so insensitive to an adoptee in her life. 

A month ago, Clark’s face might have crumpled. Two weeks ago, he might have thrown Lois’s insensitivity right back in her face. Today, though, his eyes only go wide for a second, right before Lois sees them glint with what she can only label as sheer Clarkness. It’s a near cousin of his shit-eating grin, that’s for sure, and if it makes her heart race with a little anticipation that between her, the universe and, if he’s listening, Sup--

Shit. 

But maybe Clark isn’t listening, too focused on what he’s about to say, because he plows on despite her heart rate. “Lois,” he drawls, “I don’t ignore the dictates of the United States because I'm an alien.”  

Oh for fuckssake. “Clark now is not the time to crib off of your much cooler mom’s actual anarchist credentials. You can talk as much theory as you want, but you were the one who just asked if we should continue our pursuit of justice based on legality.” 

Clark scoffs. “Perry suspended us for two weeks, and on day two you called me up and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation.” 

Sometimes, Clark’s whole Clark-shtick makes it so that Lois can’t tell if he’s actually hurt, or if he’s just fucking with her emotions, the ones everyone told him she’d long shot dead and buried behind the house, for his own amusement. She squints, leaning in a little closer to check for his usual tells, and there! Just at the corner of his lip, a slight twitch, so minuscule that no one but Lois could have found it. 

“You asshole! You were bored too!” Lois crosses her arms. “C’mon, would you really have been happy with a normal cruise, just floating on the ocean and wearing Hawaiian shirts while eating shrimp, no care in the world?” She raises her eyebrows, grinning like she’s trying to sell Clark a tub of Crisco. “Isn’t taking down the Mob just so much more exciting?” 

According to her therapist, Lois was never really in love with Superman. Lois was in love with the idea Superman represented -- a good man, powerful without the corruption she saw infesting those with power every day, a man so far above humanity that he was safe from the trainwreck that was Lois’ interior self. He could never really love her back, so Lois was safe loving him, never had to worry about her job putting him in danger or her tongue slicing him up during an argument until there was nothing left but his torn up suit. 

Clark, though, Clark was very real, her therapist said. Says, though Lois hasn’t been responding to her calls since the Revelation. She doesn’t know how quite to say “hey Doc, remember how we’ve been talking on and on about Clark and Superman, and how I have to ‘give up my illusion of safety in order to take a real leap of faith?’ Well, do I have a doozy for you!”  

But anyway, the point her therapist was making was that Clark actually knows Lois, inside and out. Probably better than Lois knows herself, at this point, and he loves her for it anyway. Because he does love her, Lois knows. Just like Jimmy knows, and Perry, and Lucy, and hell the guy at her corner bodega too who thinks that “that nice plaid-shirt guy you’re seeing, who comes in to buy you a whole dozen maple donuts before he picks you up, he’s gonna pop the question any day now Miss Lane!” 

Clark has loved Lois for a long time but never told her because Lois has spent almost the entirety of their partnership pretending to love Superman, afraid of being judged wanting by the only person in the world who could actually make that judgment in the first place. Clark loves her now, but Lois’ parents loved each other too once, and that relationship ended with her mom being just a little grateful that the cancer was actually going to kill her so that she wouldn’t have to put up with the General anymore. Lois knows that Clark thinks she doesn’t love him, that he thinks her love for Superman died in the fire of knowing that Superman was actually her bumpkin friend Clark, but for once she’s too afraid to report the truth. 

The truth, that all those parts Lois’ mother hated in the General -- his stubbornness, his arrogance, his inability to see anything outside of the scope of his gun -- Mad-Dog Lane has too, probably in equal measure. Clark isn’t her mom, but he too is kind, and gentle. Soft sometimes, in ways that Lois can’t believe he manages when faced with the horrors of humanity twice over. He’s her best friend, her partner, but if they added another step to their weird dance wouldn’t it finally be too much? Clark has parents who love him, makes friends easier than Lois can breathe, but Lois has only Clark. Maybe Perry, but even then who knows -- Clark might get Perry in the divorce since he can actually spell. 

“Hmm?” Lois shakes herself again, finally seeing Clark’s hand wave in front of her face. “Sorry, Clark.” 

He laughs. “It’s fine Lois, I was just saying something you’d probably have liked to hear so it’s probably best that you didn’t.” 

Lois clicks her tongue, rounding on Clark. “Well if it’s that I was right about you being bored after an entire two days off, then I don’t need to hear it. I already know I’m right and that’s good enough for me.” 

Clark rolls his eyes. “One of the precious few times you are, since this idea of yours is all sorts of wrong. Beyond the legal thing, which I will remind you, is a matter of having a massage therapy license that neither of us has and as such, cannot in good faith offer massages as part of our jobs as massage therapists.” Funny that Clark seems to have no comment on the whole “fake marriage” part of Lois’ plan. 

Lois brushes off his concern with what she thinks is aplomb. “See that would have been a problem for the Lois-of-a-month-ago, but today-Lois knows something that you apparently haven’t thought about!” 

“Oh?”

Lois beckons Clark closer, and because he loves her, he humors her by leaning in close. “See,” she whispers into his ear, “Today-Lois knows that her partner Clark has super-vision, and can see all those pesky muscle groupings neither of us knows about. Just talk to me in a language we know but the client doesn’t, and we’ll be all good!” 

Clark chokes. “You want me to...use my powers to aid in our...subterfuge?” 

Lois raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t used them on a story before?” That would be very Clark-like of him, she supposes, but on the other hand, the Clark she knows would never not use a resource to help break a story. And, just like she thought--

“No,” Clark says, flushing beet red -- I made Superman blush! Lois thinks and tamps down -- “No I have, but just not so....” 

“Planned?” 

“No,” Clark admits, “it was definitely planned.” He laughs softly. “Honestly, I think it’s that no one else has ever planned to use my powers, at least not as Clark.” Superman, of course, helps build millions of homes and launches nuclear waste into space: there’re entire forums where top scientists compete to see which of their ideas Superman can help them fulfill. And here Lois is, asking him to use those same powers so that they can fake being massage therapists to coax out leads from horny couples with connections to the Mob. 

She bites her lip, insecure in only the way Superman and Clark have been able to make her feel. Just figures that they were the same person the whole time. “Is..,” Lois swallows, “Is that ok? That I planned it?” Her eyes widen, sudden panic suffusing her body. “Ohmygod Clark, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or anything, I mean I definitely think your powers are cool but I love you for your mind first and fore--” 

Everything inside and out of Lois’s brain shuts off. Did she just--

Clark’s jaw drops, wild hope Lois doesn’t even think he realizes creeping into the corners of his eyes. “Did you just--” 

“I..” Lois’ brain is now entirely composed of those moments when your CD skips, no words, no feelings, just skips. 

And then, like the greatest gift and curse the Universe could possibly bestow at once, the Cruise Director’s door opens. “Hello,” she says, glancing down at the names on her clipboard and doing a double-take. “Bumpo and Geraldine McTungus?” 

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

hey there, could you write #54 with dick? love your blog

thank you anon i love YOU!! hope you enjoy 💖

1.5k fluff of Dick Grayson/Nightwing x Reader in which a spa night turns into a superhero reveal. 

54.“You really have no clue who I am?” “You’d think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you.”

Tonight was supposed to be a breath of serenity amidst a weeks of simultaneously tedious and tumultuous school work and job interviews.

But one of Gotham’s vigilantes just had to come crashing through your window in the middle of your solitary spa night. 

You hadn’t entirely intended to spend the evening alone. You asked Dick a few days ago if he wanted to grab dinner tonight because he always radiated abundant enthusiasm when you told him you had a moment of free time and because you thoroughly enjoyed the warm energy and sweet kisses of a man who might be your boyfriend at this point – but you two had yet to label this agglomeration of cute notes, lunch dates, and hand-holding. 

Dick notified you sulkily that he would be busy on this quiet spring night (“I’m distraught that I’m missing out on a night with my favorite person, emphasis on dis”), but pinky-promised to take you out for waffles next week. You tried to expire the disappointment from your lungs with a smile and deep exhale, but largely failed.

It always leaves you a little winded when you ponder the steadily growing piece of your heart reserved for Dick Grayson. ‘Head over heels’ barely captures the sweet, pleasantly dizzying daze of being enamored with Dick. You are beyond head over heels; you are tumbling headfirst, a downward spiral into strong embraces and musical laughter and syrupy adoration. It enthralls you more than it scares you: rather than drowning in a sea of vulnerability, you’re floating on a comfy raft, probably resting against a sun-kissed, muscular chest and drinking blissfully from a coconut. 

Coconuts and a handsome young man are presently absent from your home, but at least you could spend some quality time with your cat, who blinks at you drowsily from the couch as you pour a fizzy, sugary beverage into an unnecessarily fancy glass. 

“You know, Socks, I hate to be nosy, but he didn’t actually tell me why he was busy tonight. And it’s not like I’m…worried…or anything. I’m just curious.” 

Socks doesn’t have much of a response, save for a wide yawn. 

You tell him that you appreciate the feedback as you go into the bathroom and rummage for your favorite clay mask, laced with strawberries and honey. It looks a bit unruly, bright pink against your skin, but you needn’t impress anyone tonight.

Socks chatters softly after you switch on the TV and plop down next to him, glass in one hand and remote in the other as you search for your favorite rom com. He butts his head against your hip and curls up next to you, purring, and you scratch behind his ears. 

“Aw, buddy, you’ll always be the number one guy in my life. Even Dick knows this.”

Socks nuzzles closer and you can’t fight the warm smile across your mouth at the mention of Dick. 

You feel light and pleasant, a soft breeze billowing in through the open window and ruffling your hair and the thin curtains and dragging the scent of strawberries from the mask through the air. You think you even might be dozing off when Socks jumps straight up and digs his claws into your thigh. 

You barely remember to cry out in pain because, moments after, a lithe tangle of black Kevlar comes barreling though the open window.

(Socks, your knight in shining armor, dives beneath the couch.)

The heap of lanky limbs mumbles, “Ouch,” and you raise a pillow defensively, slowly inching towards him. You figure that if worse comes to worse, he’ll be scared away by the thick layer of pink across your face. 

He flips onto his back and props himself up, rubbing his forehead and grumbling. 

His gaze flickers up to you, sheepish smile lingering beneath the curve of a black mask across the bridge of his nose. “Hi.” 

You blink at the glowing blue bird across his chest and part your mouth but omit no coherent sound; you can’t decide whether you should scream or inquire about his well-being.

“I, um, h-hello?” 

He stands slowly, gracefully, shaking out his wrist and rubbing his elbow, toned muscle adorning a lanky frame. “I apologize for…barreling in through your window.”

“It’s…okay. I think?” 

His features knit into a frown. “But it’s late and a weekend and you live by yourself. Should you be leaving your window wide open at all?” 

You frown back. “I like the fresh air. Plus, you aren’t my mother. With all due respect, Mr. Nightwing, I will open my window if I damn please. And I have a cat, I don’t live alone!” You huff, dropping the pillow and crossing your arms over your chest. 

He raises his hands in surrender. “You got me.” He presses his finger to an ear piece and his voice drops, turning his whole body away from you. “I’m good. Tiny accident. No, Red, that’s silly. Socks belong on your feet. I’ll see you tomorrow. Nightwing out.”

You stare at him, bewildered, and your body buzzes with adrenaline. Would this be an appropriate time to call the police? Would it be inappropriate to call the cops on a guy who kind of qualifies as a superhero? Should you call Dick? 

He must see the litany of distraught questions playing across your face because he flashes you a reassuring smile. “This whole thing was supposed to be a lot more nonchalant. But this has turned into a disaster, all dis. I’m a little glad your window was open, I must admit. Crashing through glass is kind of painful.” 

“…what in the world?” You ask for many reasons; why he ended up in your apartment, why he speaks to you so casually, why he plays with words like Dick Grayson, why he sounds an awful lot like Dick Grayson…

The smile droops off his face. The curl of his mouth is achingly familiar, but you hesitate to think blatantly of who it resembles. 

“You look…confused.”

You nod, plopping onto the arm of the couch. “A little.”

He leans back against the counter across from you. “You also look a little bit like a strawberry. A cute one.” 

He jolts at your visceral reaction because you stand up straight, eyebrows arched. “I have a boyfriend. You cannot call me a cute strawberry!” You pause, gaze flitting to the ceiling. “Well, he’s not formally my boyfriend. But I think we’re getting there.” 

A grin quirks at his mouth and you blanch, choking down the torrent of butterflies against your ribcage. 

“Why are you smiling?!”

He sobers, wrinkling his nose and tilting his head a bit like a disconcerted puppy. “You really have no clue who I am?” 

“You’d think the confused look and blank stare would have answered that for you.” 

Nightwing laughs, a warm sound born in his throat and echoing off the walls of the apartment, and you’d know that sound in any storm.

Your stance softens slightly and so does your tone. “I mean, I can speculate.” 

He undoubtedly wiggles his eyebrows beneath the mask and his voice drops in a way that makes heat rise violently in your face, red beneath pink. “Want to come over here and take off my mask, Y/N?” 

The air is different now as he approaches you, cloying and thick. He halts an arm’s length away from you. Dick does this literally and figuratively; he always wants to meet you in the middle, lingering in between distance and intimacy, and you often ponder the idea of soulmates because it seems like in this amorous universe, you’re always gravitating toward him – and he’s pulled towards you with the same sweet energy. 

You move deliberately through the haze of trepidation, timid in the way that you place your fingers beneath sleek Kevlar and against smooth, heated skin because removing this mask is removing countless safeguards and the cover on a can of worms, to reveal vivid aquamarine and the man you are hopelessly falling in love with. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

You smile so wide it cracks your mask and you might have half a mind to feel embarrassed but you’re too enthralled by the sight of Dick’s handsome face and soulful eyes. 

“Hi, Dick. Er, Nightwing.” You say, a little breathless.

“I really am sorry for crashing through your window. I didn’t know what other way to enter the building inconspicuously and also inform you of my other identity.” 

“You could have just…told me. Socks was less than thrilled about it.” You giggle a little. His eyes are bright with adoration and it makes your heart sing. “But I appreciate any excuse to see you with my own eyes.” 

“Oh, honey, the sentiment is absolutely reciprocated. How whelmed are you?” 

“Not overly at the moment.”

He kisses your mouth briefly, a breath of flower petals and honey. “Am I allowed to call you a cute strawberry now?”

You narrow your eyes for a moment. “Only if you put on the clay mask.” 

“Of course!” Dick chirps. “Then we can both be cute strawberries.”

[iamkatehardy]

K.O. (Tommy Conlon x Reader)

Reposting this BECAUSE FUCK YOU FOR FLAGGING ME BECAUSE OF TOMMY’S NIPPLES , TUMBLR, THAT’S WHY. ( Should rewrite it, but I’m posting this just as it the original, because t was one of the first ones ❤ And I’m proud of my newbie mistakes 😂)

Requested by @bxbblesstuff

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Author’s Notes: First time writing on Tommy Conlon, hope you like it! This is a One-Shot only, at least for now. Feedback is appreciated,as always, and all your requests will be written as soon as possible!

Another stressful day at work. Even though that wasn’t your dream, and that you’d be laid off in no time due to the crisis in the company, you worked overtime once again. Bills didn’t pay themselves, and food didn’t magically appear on the table.

When you finished what you had to do, you drove to the gym. You changed fast in the bathroom, there was no such thing as “Girls’ Shower Room”, as there were no girls beside you in there. Then you rushed to the ring.

“I know Pete, I’m late, and I’m sorry, but my boss has been a pain in the ass lately…” – You sighed, tying your hair.

“Look, I agreed to help you, but I need you to be into this at 100% if you want me to keep doing it, ok? I hate wasting my time.” – He said, wrapping your hands for the practice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time…” – You put on your mouthpiece, giving him an apologetic look.

“Training for Sparta kept me busy, so this time, and only this time, I’ll let it go, rookie. Next time I’m done coaching you.”

The gym was mostly empty that late at night, and you liked it like that: it meant no prying eyes or misogynous comments, at least aside from Pete’s.

You were practicing for some time when you heard the door, the person entering the gym irritated Mad Dog, who now threw harder punches, that you were supposed to block, if you hadn’t been inattentive, which was the number one mistake in MMA, boxing or any other way of fighting.

You failed blocking one of Mad Dog’s angry punches, and he knocks you on the floor.

“Damn, (Y/N), where’s your fucking head at?”

A little bit disoriented from the punch, you clean the blood coming out of our nose.

“No, where’s YOUR fucking head at?” – The man who had just come in the gym enters the ring, approaching Mad Dog, looking into his eyes, face inches apart from his.

“Spare me this ridiculous act, this is not your business…” – Mad Dog snarled, bitterly.

The man scratched his head, and putted his forehead on Mad Dog’s.

“Get the fuck out of here, if you care for your own good, before I lose it, alright?” – He pushed Mad Dog, who stepped further, not pleased at all.

“And you, I’m fucking done with you!” – Mad Dog pointed his finger at you, while you managed to stop the bleeding; He then grabbed his things and stormed out of the gym.

“Are you alright?”- The man asked, kneeling near you, checking the small cut on your cheek.

You took your mouthpiece off and got up sighing.

“I’m fine, don’t worry…”

“Well, Mad Dog doesn’t go easy on the punches, so maybe we should check that out.” – He approached you.- “I’m Tommy by the way, Tommy Conlon.” – He extended his hand to you.

You took his hand and shook it steadily, muffling a giggle.

“Tommy Conlon, like the one who aspired to go to Sparta, and kicked Mad Dog’s ass  in this same ring? THAT Tommy Conlon?”

“Yeah, that one… And you were about to watch part two of that fight, live… But the important now is to take care of that…” – Tommy was not a soft guy, but he had seen his share of women getting beaten when he was a kid, and it was something that messed with him pretty bad.

“Listen, Tommy, thank you so much, but I’m fine, really.” – You grabbed your stuff. – “ Oh, and I’m (Y/N, by the way, nice to meet you.” – You smiled.

“Well, (Y/N), will you still say that in the morning, when you’re purple and swollen, like a beet?” – He leaned against the ropes, shrugging.

“Maybe not…” – You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Then let me get some ice and the first-aid kit, will you?” – He got of the ring to get them, and you sat in a bench nearby.

He kneeled in front of you , cleaning of the blood , trying to be gentle even if he wasn’t used to it. You winced.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry, but it’s necessary…” – He carefully kept doing it, and then gave you the ice.

“What are you even doing here this late?” – You pressed the ice on your face

“A thank you would do too, miss…” – He chuckled and sat by your side.

“Sorry, you’re right! Thank you.” – You smiled and looked at him. – “But I’m still curious, usually the gym is empty at this time of the day…”

“What could I possible be doing here? Practicing for Sparta… I’ve been practicing with my father coaching me, but we had some problems and I needed to unwind, so I came here on my own… But that’s odd that YOU ask. What are YOU doing here? I don’t see a lot of women around, I must say.”

“I want to make it to the Women’s Football League.”

“Shouldn’t you be playing football then?” – He asked, confused.

“If you want a place there, you’ve got to step up your game. It takes a lot of focus, and physical strength, those both are things that fighting can help me with… And well, when your whole life is a mess, it’s a great stress reliever as well.” – You turned to him. – “If I can keep up with you big boys on the ring, then I can keep up with girls in the field, right?”

“Yeah, right, but these mad men don’t play (Y/N).”

“And who said I do play, Mr. Conlon?”

He held his hands up, as surrendering, and smiled.

“I’m not a rookie, as Mad Dog loves to call me. My father passed away when I was a kid; at school no one made my life any easier either. I figured I needed to know how to defend myself, protect myself, and release all the frustration…” – You looked down. – “Football is my main goal now, but I’ve been fighting for fifteen years now, Tommy, I don’t play either. I’m half of your size, so no, I obviously can’t beat you or Mad Dog, or any guy here, but I do what I want when it comes to fighting someone with my size. I’m not here to fight, just to practice. So why not practicing with someone with my size, you may wonder, and the answer is simple, in fact. I’ve been told this same gym is where the very best are, and if I have a goal, a dream, the best are the ones I want to work with.”

He had to admit your courage and determination were admirable, although you were probably a little bit crazy at the same time, but he liked that about you too.

“I’m sorry if I sounded insane…” – You looked back up and smiled.

“You didn’t, and even if you did, you wouldn’t be more insane than I am anyway, so it’s ok.”

You got up, picking your gym bag from the bench.

“Thank you once again Tommy, but I should probably get going home.”

“Wait, I bet you’re still dizzy from the punch, it’s not good idea to drive right now. Let me take you, you come and pick your car tomorrow, ok?” – He got up.

“I…” – You scratched your head. –  I definitely could take that, actually, yeah.. Thank you.”

He grabbed his bag and then took yours in his hand as well, walking you to his car. His actions that night impressed you; you never expected sympathy from anyone, especially people you just met.

It was a quit ride; you could tell he wasn’t talkative, but that was fine, you weren’t much of a talked either.

“Well, it’s here.” – You pointed to your apartment and unfastened your seatbelt. – “Do you want to come in?”

He didn’t know exactly whether to accept or decline, as he was a socially awkward kind of guy, so he hesitated for a second.

“Besides football and throwing punches, I’m pretty great with cakes, I have a cat named Ninja who’d love you, and I don’t bite unless I’m asked to. Also, I don’t usually take no for answers.” – You shrugged.

“Ok, you got me at sweets and animals…”- He got out the car and opened the door for you.

After a quick elevator ride, you finally arrive at your beloved home.

“Oh Ninja…” – You scowled and then laughed; catching some things your cat had knocked down on your absence. – “Be good, please, we have visitors, ok?” – You crouched, rubbing the cat’s back as he rubbed his face on your legs.

“What can I get you? A tea, maybe a beer? I’m not a drinker, so I don’t have anything stronger to offer you..”

“I’m fine like this, thanks.” – He smiled and sat on the sofa, near your Ninja, who seemed to be curious and pleased by Tommy’s presence.

“He likes you, so I guess I like you too…” – You giggled. – “What about a slice of cheesecake, can I offer you that?”

He made a funny face.

“You know, that is something that can’t be refused!”

You walked to the kitchen grabbing him a slice of cheesecake, which he devoured in delight shortly after, as you threw yourself in the other sofa.

“Oh God, it’s really good…” – He spoke with his mouth still full, and you laughed.

“Talking about really good, I need your help…”

“Tell me.”

“Mad Dog just gave up on me, you heard him. And I have trials soon, I need to keep in shape. I need to find someone really good to train with, and it better be real quick…” – You bite your nails.

“Hmm, I might have a solution for you…”

“I’m ready to hear it , Tommy.”

“If it’s to help you achieving something you really want, then I’ll help you, even if I don’t usually coach people. Let’s say I took a liking to you, shorty.”

“Wait, WHAT?” – You straightened out in the sofa.

“That is, if you want me to.”

“If that doesn’t bother you or your practice for Sparta… Of course I want it!” – You get up, running to him, jumping on his arms and hugging him tight. – “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. THANK YOU!” – You filled his cheek with kisses.

“I can see it’s important for you, and it makes me train as well. Plus, I really can’t let you in Mad Dog’s or any other lunatics’ hands! That’s dangerous for you (Y/N), I don’t want you to get hurt, alright?” – He rubbed your shoulder.- “But don’t fool yourself , I won’t be soft with you!” – He put a straight face.

“I didn’t expect you to be, that’s exactly you’re the perfect partner, Mr. Conlon!” – You nudged him.

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“In training sessions I won’t be soft , but out of the gym we’ll see…” – He wrapped an arm around you.

“Out of the ring, feel free no knock me out.” – You smiled, looking up to his eyes.

[callboxkat]

Aftermath

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Author’s note: This just sort of... happened. I’ve been craving sympathetic Deceit content recently, but there isn’t a lot of it out there. I saw a prompt (can’t remember where) that was just “Shut up and let me help you!” and I thought of this. I actually finished the thing, against my expectations, and I kind of like it. I’m a bit apprehensive about posting it, since it’s so different from my College AU, but here it is! Because of the warnings, the work is under the cut, and I’m not going to use my regular tag list. Also, sorry I’m bad at titles.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, or more accurately, the aftermath of violence. Sympathetic Deceit. Roman being a little less than nice (he’s a protective boy). Food mention. Mild dehydration. Blood. Sleep deprivation. It’s pretty angsty, but I can’t leave things with unhappy endings, so....

Summary: Deceit has just escaped from one of the other “dark sides”, who had decided that it was time someone punished Deceit for his recent actions. He manages to escape, but gets lost, and collapses in the far reaches of the mindscape. He’s all but given up, but someone finds him.

Word Count: 2956

Ao3 Link

Writing Masterpost

Deceit stared blankly at the opposite wall, breathing heavily. He was currently sitting against the wall of a hallway in the mindscape, one yellow-gloved hand clutching his wounded side as he struggled to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure where he was. The mindscape could be, theoretically, infinite, generating new rooms and hallways as the sides traveled through it. He could still be near where he had begun, or he could be miles away. Deceit couldn’t quite recall how far he’d managed to flee.

He had collapsed in this spot about ten minutes prior, unable to run anymore. Thankfully, he could no longer hear the loud, purposeful footsteps of his pursuer. He must have given up, deciding that Deceit wasn’t worth the trouble.

He wasn’t even sure what he had done to deserve such a beating. Sure, Thomas now knew who he was, and that the other “dark sides”, as Roman had dubbed them, existed, but that wasn’t entirely Deceit’s fault. Besides, Thomas still didn’t know any specifics about the other dark sides, so the other side needn’t have been so angry. Although he almost always was.

Deceit sucked in a painful breath, sluggishly pushing his head off of the wall so that he could look down at his side. The bruises on his face throbbed as he stared down at his torso. Blood seeped between his fingers.

His vision swam, and he got a strange sense that he was falling despite already being on the floor, the wall all that was keeping him from being completely laying down.

He was dizzy, his whole body ached, and he was so, so tired.

Deceit’s punishment had occurred over a period lasting a few days. He had been dragged, kicking and yelling, into a dark room. He’d been beaten, deprived of sleep (sudden, loud sounds every minute or two was a good way to ensure that), and denied food and water. All without explanation other than that he deserved it for what he had done. What exactly he had done was never explained, so Deceit could only guess.

Deceit realized that his eyes had slipped shut, and he forced them open again. He had to stay alert. The other dark side still might find him.

…

Footsteps.

Deceit tried to raise his head towards the sound, but it felt like it weighed a ton.

The footsteps grew louder, and Deceit realized that he could hear laughter. Laughter that certainly didn’t belong to the side who had done this to him. There was no malice to it at all, just a childish glee.

Something ran past him. Brown, fluffy—a puppy? Deceit managed to get his head up, but the puppy was already gone. The footsteps, however, were not.

They slowed.

“Deceit?”

No, no, just go away!

The “light side” knelt before him. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

Deceit didn’t reply.

“Is that—is that blood?”

“Yes.” If Deceit told the truth, Patton would assume he was lying, and maybe he would leave.

The moral side, however, wasn’t fooled. He was pulling his cat hoodie—not a cardigan, as Deceit had foolishly worn at the theatre—from his shoulders, and moved to press it to Deceit’s wound.

He scrabbled at the wall, trying to move away “I want and need your help!” he cried, his voice annoyingly weak.

“Shut up and let me help you!” Patton snapped, grabbing him. “What on earth happened?”

Deceit gave up, slumping back against the wall. He couldn’t get away from Patton if he wanted to, he knew. The adrenaline from his escape had also all but worn off, and things were really starting to catch up with him.

“Deceit? Can you hear me, kiddo?”  Deceit noticed for the first time how scared Patton sounded. He really must look bad. “I’m—I’m gonna summon the others, so they can help.”

Deceit made a noise in the back of his throat, finding that he couldn’t quite form words. His vision was graying, and the falling sensation was back.

“What the hell—!”

“Patton! I thought we agreed no summoning without warning!”

“What…?”

Deceit barely heard the new voices.

“What the heck happened?”

He was aware that someone was shaking his shoulder, tapping on his face, but he was too out of it to move. He couldn’t’ even really see anymore.

“Deceit? Deceit, wake up!”

It was okay. The light sides might hate him, but they were the good aspects of Thomas’s personality. He could let go. They wouldn’t hurt him. Not like… not like Malice.

Deceit let go.

…

“…sure this isn’t a trick?”

“Roman, surely even Deceit would not go to such extremes for the sake of trickery.”

“He’s a snake, Logan! A slimy, lying snake! You don’t know what he would or wouldn’t do!”

“Guys, he just moved. I think he might be awake.”

“Deceit? Kiddo?”

Deceit let out a soft moan. He didn’t know where he was, or what was going on. He couldn’t figure out why people were yelling. He could understand what they were saying, but he wasn’t awake enough to put much meaning to the words.

“There you are.” Something cool and damp was dabbed gently across his forehead. It felt nice. “Can you open your eyes for me? I know you’re swollen, so maybe just the one?”

This voice spoke so sweetly that Deceit tried to do what it asked. He pulled himself towards full awareness, fighting to open his eyes. The right one refused to budge for some reason, but his left flickered open.

Faces hovered above him. His vision focused on them after a few seconds. The light sides. Patton looked hopeful, but worried. Logan looked curious. Virgil was apprehensive. And Roman looked wary.

“Hey, Deceit. Can you drink some water for me? You’re pretty dehydrated.”

A straw was put to his mouth, and Deceit took a sip. It might have been the best water he had ever tasted.

“Not too much just yet,” Logan advised as Deceit took another mouthful of water. The straw was taken away.

“Really, guys, this still feels like a trick,” Roman said, moving away.

“Roman, the guy can’t even stand,” Virgil pointed out. “Even if he wants to pull something, there’s four of us verses one guy who looks like a punching bag.”

Deceit’s eyelids were heavy. He was a little distressed about the yelling, about the light sides sending him away again, but it was so hard to stay awake….

“Roman, Deceit’s staying here, and that’s final,” Patton announced, his Dad Voice kicking in.

Deceit could have cried with relief.

“Fine, but I’m not letting him out of my sight. And he’s out of here as soon as he can walk!”

Deceit didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He let sleep carry him away.

…

The other sides had gone to go about their business in the mindscape, leaving Patton alone with Deceit. Even Roman had eventually left, although he had insisted that Patton keep his sword, just in case. Patton had reluctantly agreed, although he had no intentions of using it.

He sat on the arm of the sofa, watching over the unconscious dark side. Occasionally he would switch out the washcloth that lay on his forehead, or check on the wound on his chest. Deceit was covered in bruises, the right side of his face swollen to near unrecognizability. A bag of frozen peas was helping to alleviate the swelling. It looked like someone left-handed had punched him repeatedly, and finally stabbed him. Who had done this? Why?

It made Patton angry. He didn’t get angry often, but to see someone in such a state, especially a part of the FamILY (“dark side” or not), filled him with a barely contained rage. At times his hands shook with it as he tended to Deceit.

It was only luck that had led him to the injured side in the first place. Roman, with his ability to conjure puppies, had created one for Patton to play with that day. The puppy had been very energetic, running through the mindscape, with Patton gleefully chasing after. And the puppy had ran through a part of it that the sides seldom visited, as only Logan held much desire to determine how expansive the mindscape could become. The others were usually apprehensive of becoming lost, or in Roman’s case, preferred to design their own adventures rather than explore what could essentially become an endless maze.

He stayed there with Deceit until late in the night. It had been an exhausting day, stressing over the welfare of the injured side and trying to put him back together. Patton tried not to fall asleep, but he found himself occasionally dozing off. Roman found him there a little past midnight, only half-awake, and told him to go to bed.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he had promised.

Patton had nodded sleepily before stumbling off to his room.

…

The next time Deceit woke up, he felt more aware of his surroundings. He was lying on one of two couches in what must have been the light sides’ common area, propped up on pillows and with a thick blanket over his legs.

The lights were dimmed, but he could see well enough. He could open both eyes this time, although just barely. Someone had removed his shirt, and there was a thick bandage around his torso. He tried not to wince at the bruises patterned across his skin.

There was a glass of water on the table at his side. Deceit tried to sit up, hissing in pain. He didn’t manage to sit up all the way, but he propped himself up on an elbow and downed the glass of water.

“Awake, are we, fiend?” a voice said. Deceit froze.

A man stepped into view, wielding a sword. Roman.

“No, I’m not awake,” Deceit said, his voice hoarse. “And I’m certainly hatching a villainous plan at this very moment.”

Roman frowned at him, sitting in a chair directly across from the couch. “Why else would you only choose to stir at 3 in the morning?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’d probably think this was the perfect time to strike, you snake.”

Deceit knew that Roman was just trying to protect his friends, but seriously, what could he even do if he wanted to con them?

“Roman, what are you doing?” That was Virgil.

“I’m keeping watch over our prisoner. Go back to bed.”

“Okay, for one thing, he’s not a prisoner. And why do you need a sword?”

“For self-defense!”

Virgil stepped into Deceit’s field of vision, looking down at the dark side with skepticism. “Roman, Patton said that we’re going to treat him like a guest. I don’t like him either, but I don’t think you usually take care of guests by wielding a sword in their face.”

Roman pouted at Virgil, probably annoyed that the anxious side was ruining his valiant hero vibe. Virgil rolled his eyes. He looked towards Deceit. “Do you want something to eat?”

Deceit slowly shook his head.

“Alright, what do you want?”

“Nothing sounds good,” he replied.

Virgil shrugged and headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he reappeared with a plate. Two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were stacked on it. Deceit devoured the first of them greedily. He almost didn’t notice Virgil eyeing him.

“I should get the others,” Virgil said, not addressing anyone in particular. “I’ll be right back.” He looked towards Roman. “Try not to threaten him too much while I’m gone, okay?”

“Fiiine.”

And Virgil left.

Thankfully the awkward silence (in which Roman watched suspiciously and Deceit picked at the second sandwich) didn’t last very long. Patton came jogging into the room, followed by Virgil and Logan at a much slower pace.

“Deceit! You’re up!”

Deceit glanced around at them all. He felt… out of place. He’d never been to this part of the mindscape, so deep in the light sides’ domain. He usually only saw the light sides when he was travelling in ambiguously owned areas, or when one of them came to the dark sides’ part of the mind, or more recently, when they went to the real world. It was strange to see Patton looking at him with such care, and even Virgil held pity in his gaze. Roman’s reaction was more like he was used to, but he wasn’t being overtly hostile anymore.

Logan stepped forward and handed Deceit some pills and a glass of water. “These are painkillers,” he explained. “They won’t take away the pain entirely, but they will help.”

“Thanks,” Deceit murmured before downing the pills.

“What happened?” Virgil asked.

“Ah… well…” Deceit decided to tell the truth for once. “One of the dark sides was feeling less than amicable towards me, and decided to carry out what he felt was a suitable punishment. I managed to escape when he… when he stabbed me, and accidentally cut one of the ropes.”

The other sides shared glances, looking somewhat shocked. Roman’s sword lowered towards the floor.

“How do we know this is the truth?” Roman asked, not quite willing to let go of his suspicions yet.

Deceit sighed, settling back against the pillows. “If I wanted to trick you into pitying me, I would have shown up with a bruised cheekbone or something. I wouldn’t stab myself in the f—” he glanced towards Patton “—in the kidney.”

“You were not stabbed in the—”

“He’s not being literal, Logan,” Virgil sighed.

“Oh. My apologies.”

“Worry about it,” Deceit sighed, slipping back into his habit of always saying the opposite of what he meant.

Logan opened his mouth, then shut it again. Shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the room. “I am going back to bed. Fetch me if anything changes.”

Patton went to the kitchen and returned with a frozen bag of peas, which he handed to Deceit. “For your face,” he said. Deceit took the bag gratefully, and very tenderly put it against the right side of his face.

“I am going to get some rest as well,” Roman said. He glanced towards Deceit, less suspicious now, and began to leave, but paused. “Sorry about earlier. You’re not always a fiend.” With that, he departed.

…

Over the next few days, Deceit continued to improve. The others still tended to avoid looking at his face—when Deceit finally looked in a mirror, he found he couldn’t blame them—but he was improving. He was able to walk short distances with the help of the pain meds Logan supplied. He mostly stayed in the commons, sleeping on the couch, and never ventured into the light sides’ rooms.

None of them had heard anything from any of the dark sides, and Deceit didn’t believe that the light sides had tried to contact them to tell them that Deceit was with them. They probably assumed that he had crawled off somewhere in the mindscape to die, he thought. Which, essentially, he had, until Patton had found him.

Patton was still the only one who really treated him kindly, but the others were slowly coming around, and they were saints when compared to what most of the dark sides were like. Compared to what Malice was like.

Deceit wasn’t looking forward to leaving.

…

“Hey, Deceit? Are you awake?”

He was, just barely, but Deceit kept his eyes shut. It had been a little over a week now since Patton had found him bleeding out in the mindscape’s labyrinth. He was almost healed at this point, so he knew it was only a matter of time before they banished him back to the other dark sides.

He had just about fallen back asleep when he felt a hand on his arm. “Come on, Deceit, wake up.”

“Mmmm.”

“Are you with me?”

“…No.”

“Come on, I want to talk to you.”

Deceit opened his eyes. Virgil was leaning over the sofa, peering down at him. He removed his hand from the dark side’s arm.

“Good evening,” Deceit said, his eyes flicking over to the morning light peeking through the blinds. The commons was made to look realistic, even though those windows didn’t truly lead outside.

“Hey,” Virgil replied as Deceit sat up. “So, um, the rest of us have been talking, and we have something we want to ask you.”

Deceit frowned. He looked around, and saw that Logan, Patton, and Roman were standing at the edge of the room. He studied their expressions. Logan’s was unreadable, but Patton was clearly nervously excited, and Roman looked conflicted.

“Well, don’t ask me already,” Deceit finally said.

“Do you want to stay with us?” Patton asked, the words coming out very quickly. He seemed unable to contain them any longer.

“I’m… not already here….” Deceit said haltingly, confused.

“We are asking you if you wish to remain here, indefinitely, with us “light sides”, as we have recently come to be known. We are reluctant to send you back to live with repressed aspects of Thomas’s personality who treat you so poorly. Even in spite of this more… emotional reason for you to be here, would also make logical sense for you to move to this part of the mindscape, as Thomas now knows that you exist. You are no longer “in the dark”, as it were. You are, arguably, now a “light side”.”

Deceit stared at Logan as he finished his explanation.

“I think you broke him,” Roman said after a few seconds.

“Deceit?” Patton asked.

Deceit cleared his throat. “Um… yes. Yes, I’d like to stay.” Patton briefly started to look disappointed, but Deceit quickly added, “I’m telling the truth!”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want to stay.”

[nerdylittoyvoid]

Half light - Banners (Connor x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of mental illness, Angst

Synopsis: Connor just wants to know both sides on Y/N 

Heyoooo the warning is up there for all those who may want them, feel free to ignore them (you rebel, I like you) or listen to them (you warning abiding human, I also like you). So, this fic is for @spectacular-spiderboy‘s 600 follower writing challenge! I hope you enjoy! 

“it makes me feel nervous, you have that look in your eye”

 Connor’s LED blinked yellow, his face showing pure concern while seeing her like this.

You were sitting alone at your desk, the clock displaying 12:46 AM. It was another late night at the DPD filling out what seemed to be endless paperwork. Your hands shook as you tried to complete another file, your erratic breathing evident. Shakily running a hand through the hair that had fallen out of your braid, you looked pale. Too pale.

Connor could tell that your heartrate had accelerated. He’d seen you too many times like this before, taking care of everything else but yourself. You tried to put up a ‘strong woman’ front with everybody in the office, trying to be seen as a super woman of sorts. Able to accomplish everything, not letting anything get to you. But Connor, he could tell that you were deteriorating. Scanning you, he saw that you were severely fatigued and dehydrated. The girl he became deviant for was so focused on everything that she needed to do that she forgot to sleep.

He hated seeing you like this. As a human, you were so fragile. Any need not being met would put your health (or worst-case scenario, your life) at risk.

Yet, you were adamant that nothing was wrong. It was almost as if you had forgotten that Connor could do a full scan of your body to ensure your health needs were met. You’d put on a smile and build a brick wall towards everybody else. He never had the honor or the pleasure of knowing who that real Y/N was. The Y/N when she was sad, anxious, upset, vulnerable. It was at the point that he didn’t know if the happy, bubbly, sarcastic girl was really you.

“When you’re in the half light it is not you I see

And you’ll live a half life

You only show half to me”

Y/N grew up in a troubled home. Her parents divorced in the middle of her childhood. Everyone she loved all grieved over so many losses, so many personal troubles. She has learned that it was best to not bother anyone with her own problems. After all, everybody else already had so much on their plate.

She did have a therapist who she visited frequently, along with a doctor who prescribed her depression and anxiety management medications. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid getting better, she just didn’t want anyone else knowing what she was battling. She was doing pretty well for herself, too. She had cut down on her drinking, went out for walks more often, tried her best to take time for herself. But what good is any of that when you can’t even get out of bed in the morning.

Sensing an anxiety attack coming on, Y/N grabbed her sedatives from her bag.

“Take two when experiencing beginning symptoms of an anxiety attack or as needed. DO NOT OPERATE ANY VEHICLES WHILE UNDER THE EFFECTS OF THIS MEDICATION. MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS OR DROWZINESS.”

Sighing, Y/N took her water bottle out, and followed the directions on the bottle. She noticed her bottle was still full. She had forgotten to drink anything today. “Shit.” She thought to herself.

Y/N sat back in her chair, taking a couple minutes to let the medication do its magic. It was too late in the night to take public transit, she’d be stuck taking a taxi or walking. Most likely the latter, she couldn’t handle interacting with anybody else right now. Any type of exposure would lead to a full-on meltdown, which is never good when in a stranger’s car.

“Sometimes I join you

Let you wash over me

When we’re in the darkness

Only the blind can see”

 Slowly, but loudly enough not to startle Y/N, Connor walked back into the main office to approach her desk. Quickly, Connor analyzed the bottles in her hand. Venlafaxine XR 150 milligrams: a potent, short lasting Serotonin and Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitor, and Clonazepam 2 milligrams: a strong sedative in the benzodiazepine family. Both psychotropic medications.  

Connor cleared his throat, hoping to gently catch your attention. After seeing you trying to hide a panic attack at the DPD, he read that using slow, quiet and gentle approaches work best for someone in distress.

“All you all right, Y/N?” Connor asked gently, purely out of care and concern.

Y/N’s head shot up as her eyes widened. “Shit,” she thought, “I thought I was alone.”

“Of course, I just have a headache. Not ideal when you have a case load bigger than a house, with a porch and a fence.” Y/N chuckled, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

“I am not sure if you are in the best space for me to be blunt with you right now-“

Y/N cut Connor off. “Fire away.” She leaned back in her office chair, placing her palm over her forehead.

“Although a headache may very well be present, your symptoms point more strongly towards an oncoming anxiety attack. I’m really worried for you Y/N.” When he got no response, he sighed, grabbing an office chair from another desk. “Can I sit with you?” He asked politely.

“Be my guest” Y/N gave him a weak smile, attempting to show appreciation for his caring acts.

 “Can you shake it off for me?”

 Connor sat down beside her. Turning to her he asked another question, “Is there anything you need that I can do for you?”.

Y/N stopped for a moment. She hadn’t been asked that question in so long. She wasn’t being pressed to talk about what she was feeling, it was an open offer. She let out a long sigh that somehow turned into a chuckle. Damn it, his actions started making her choke up.

“I really just need a hug if that’s not too much to ask.” She said, somehow defeated. All of those years she spent building that guard up, miraculously seemed to vanish, and she was left in a vulnerable state.

“Anything to make you truly happy.” Connor stood up, gently holding Y/N’s arms to guide her up. To him, in this moment, she seemed so fragile. Like any sudden movement would cause her to break. Slowly, he pulled her in, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Like a pin poking a balloon, Y/N just let everything go. She began to sob, muttering little comments on how everything was becoming too much. Heavily sobbing, she noticed this meltdown felt different. It felt like a release, like weight had been lifted off her chest. For the first time, she wasn’t alone.

As if Connor had read her mind, he whispered softly, “You are never alone in this world. Nobody is.”

Stifling through her sniffles, she choked out one witty comment. “How could anyone be with all these damned security cameras. The government surveys all.”

Connor let out a chuckle. Hearing her make a humorous joke regardless or the bad situation proved to him that his Y/N was still there. “Conspiracy time is not now.”

“Every time is conspiracy time.”

Connor tried to sound as robotic as possible. “I have been programmed by cyberlife and the government to politely disagree with you.” For the first time in the past couple days, Y/N let out a laugh. A real one.

“Words cannot express how much I appreciate you. Truly.”

In that moment they looked into each other’s eyes. That feeling, the urge to kiss was there. But, Connor refrained, not wanting to take advantage of the distressed girl. Smiling softly, he kissed the top of her head, in a romantic but still somewhat friendly manner.

“I’m always here for you, it doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is. It’s not like I sleep, anyways.” Connor reassured, while squeezing her shoulders with one arm, rubbing her back with his free hand. “Let’s take you home, you’ve had a late night.” Connor decided.

Taking Y/N out of the building, Connor led her to the car that Hank had help him buy. Opening the passenger side door for her, she climbed in. Soon enough, he was in the driver’s seat, and they headed back to Y/N’s house.

Arriving at their destination, Y/N climbed out of the car with Connor following suit after shutting off the engine. Y/N unlocked her front door, greeting her cat as she walked in.

“I think you should get to bed, maybe call in sick tomorrow morning.” Connor suggested.

“I think that sounds fucking lovely right now.” Y/N signed, as she walked over to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed.

“I’ll let you get changed.” Connor closed the door, waiting patiently on the other side. When Y/N gave the all-clear, he headed in to see her curled up under her duvet.

“Stay with me tonight, please. If it’s not too much to ask, I don’t want to be alone. I have some baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt you could borrow.”

Hesitantly, Connor agreed. Taking the clothes and going to the bathroom to change, he came out soon after and crawled into bed with her. Taking her into his arms, he felt his thirium pump beat in a way it never did before. After much thought, he decided that this is what love felt like. He loved Y/N.

“Thank you, Connor. I don’t know what I could do to repay you for this.” Y/N whispered, appreciatively.

“Just let me get to know the other half of Y/N.”

“It’s a deal.”

With that, Y/N dozed off. That night, she slept better than she had in months.

[gyromitra-esculenta]

So guess who’s writing stories about corn demons for Halloween? Part 1. Part 2. Also, meet the Ghost Cat.

“I hate this,” Jack throws the book to the side with a light growl in his voice. “I hate trains. I hate being cooped up in this damn compartment. Remind me again why are we exactly going by train?”

“We’re smuggling weapons through the international borders,” Gabriel shares the sentiment even if it is surprising coming from Jack who could spend literal days buried under covers in his own room.

“I know but, man, fuck trains, fuck trains, next time I’m in charge of transportation, you point, I get us there!”

“How?”

“I’ll get Lena to give us a ride in Slipstream,” Jack looks at him with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to owe anything more to Bureau…”

“If anything, she owes me for that thing with Emily,” Jack interrupts him. “Wait, yeah, you wouldn’t know, Lena’s got a girlfriend now, and they both live on site, her name’s Emily,” he continues with a sudden burst of excitement and Gabriel comes to realization he had missed this, the way Jack’s face lights up when he speaks about people he considers friends. “She got herself involved with witches and possessed a bit, and then they hit it off, real hard. I think Petras got more than his share in the beginning, even changed his desk, yeah, it was funny to see them haul this ancient block of furniture out.”

And how Jack could babble away hours with the newest gossip which isn’t as unwelcome as he would have expected it to be now – but something starts to nag at him.

“Why weren’t you living on the base?”

“It felt empty after you were gone,” Jack shoots him a look, the cheerfulness vanished, ”didn’t even say goodbye, asshole, but I guess it’s ‘all in the package’ deal. Could have at least, you know, leave a card or something, not just up and vanish. Or call. There’s this thing called mobile phones, ring a bell?”

“It was better this way,” Gabriel averts his gaze, in the same instant annoyed the subject comes up and deeply relieved because it has finally been breached after three weeks back in Jack’s company.

“Better for whom?”

“Better for everyone involved.”

“You mean, better for you, so you could go wallow in misery on your own,” Jack turns to the window absentmindedly picking on his own shirt. “You know, if you had asked me, I would have gone with you, no questions asked, and besides, you came to me now that you need help.”

Maybe this was the exact reason Gabriel had not asked. Because, with Jack, things were always that complicated and that easy at the same time – but before he has a chance to answer a blue-greenish blur passes through the side of the compartment and hops on Jack’s lap. Dizzy.

“There you are, I was just starting to worry something ate you.” The ghost cat mewls and bumps Jack’s hand demanding his attention. She had to be put down long ago – and it was the only time he had seen Jack cry – but she never left. “Weren’t you ever curious about mirror boy?” Jack looks up when Dizzy settles on his lap after a minute or two of fidgeting. “Why some people call me that?”

Just like that, the subject is changed.

“You didn’t look like you were fond of it.”

“I’m not. Never was,” Jack sighs. “But that’s what landed me in Bureau. That’s what happened. I walked out of a mirror.”

“Only that?”

“No, of course not, because this was also the third time I met that other thing in the cornfields. You know, there are things you never notice how… strange they are. Because they are all you know. You never question why something is done because that’s how it always has been like, like the offerings left for the ‘corn demons’, or the dances only for the ‘younglings’,” Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I grew up in a cult.”

“A cult? Nothing sounded like…”

“Because all of it was everyday stuff,” Jack continues. “The offerings, the prayers, the dances in the barn after which sometimes some people disappeared and no-one ever spoke about that but the things in the corn were quieter for some time. There was this tradition during the dances, a game for kids, you know, standing in front of the old mirror and reciting one of the prayers, and then maybe you’d see your future spouse in there. Some people claimed they saw something in the mirror, and people that were gone after the dances were always those who saw something. Not all of them but only them.”

“It was two and a half year after Tommy Lou, and everyone had already stood in front of the mirror except me because I knew, felt, something bad was going to happen, and I thought it won’t happen if I don’t look,” Jack chuckles mirthlessly, “but I was wrong, so wrong, and when I finally did because everyone was waiting for me, I didn’t even manage to start reciting because it was there, in the mirror, behind me. I think I screamed then, totally girlish shriek as it reached from the mirror and pulled me in through it into whatever was on the other side, and I didn’t even imagine that because I heard other people screaming.”

“It was dark and cold inside, a dead place with no life, and the only source of light was that mirror behind me. That thing held me in place not letting me leave as the screams from the other side changed,” Jack closes his eyes and in his mind the creature – withered down with age – pulls him into its embrace with slowness speaking of eons, and he raises his hands to gently trace fingers along the sides of its face now yellowed with time and in places black with rot. Even its eyes, once burning points of fire, now smolder dimly. Under his fingertips, the bone slowly crumbles away as the creature clutches at him with its failing grasp and they slowly sink to the ground together. This time it is him who cradles the creature to his breast. Maybe he is the last kindness the cruel fate affords it as it dies and turns into dust in a world gone cold and empty long ago. “I can’t tell you how long I was in there, you know, but when I went away and came back through the mirror, it had been three days, and people from Bureau were there.”

“Someone tipped them off about the cult?” Gabriel leans forward with elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah. Kind of. The smell was awful, and the flies were everywhere. The buzzing was awful. It was late summer, it was hot. Thing is, thing is that those things, the demons from the corn, there was not one person left alive in the ten-mile radius. No animals. Everything butchered and left to rot in summer heat,” Jack draws in a shaky breath and Gabriel slowly moves to sit by his side unsure of his own actions – if there is any kind of comfort he can provide – but Jack leans into his embrace and lets his head rest in the crook of his neck. “They took me home so I could gather my things. I couldn’t go inside. There was a hand by itself on the porch, with a ring on, the flies were sitting on it, and it was mother’s. I couldn’t. And then, meowing loudly, Dizzy crawled from under the house, she was bloodied and sick, and missing her eye and ear, but she was alive, and she came to me.”

“I can see now why you love this dumb cat so much.”

“Yeah. She’s dumb and lazy but she’s the best cat ever,” Jack whispers and returns to petting Dizzy. “But I can’t… I can’t help thinking that maybe I was supposed to disappear after the dance, and everyone died because I wasn’t there for them to take me so they took everyone else.”

“If you had,” Gabriel kisses his hair, “then I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah. That makes it better,” Jack answers with no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

[seafleece]

3, 10, also what tour? sounds really fun

3. the last text you sent to someone?

“thas. how it be sometimes i guess”which is a big hot mood

10. if you draw or write, show some of your really old work

(i just wrote this down one day but. it got a laugh out of me)Supposedly, taking candy from a baby is easy, but those little fingers are surprisingly strong and they can cry pretty loudly.-(this is from late 2014? before i came out in june 2015 i had this weird edgy phase where i wanted to write a YA novel and didn’t understand that i felt lonely because i wasn’t straight or a girl)

The days are blurring together.The farm is in constant need of repair: I spend the weeks and months under the sun, letting it darken my skin as I paint fences, chase out rats from under the hay bales, replace the tractor tires, run wiry brushes through the coats of the horses and cows till they gleam like metal.Each day brings only the promise of work and food on the table.Mama and Father work into the night. They stagger into the house, half-asleep, starving, at some ungodly hour.The bills are paid. Water flows unfailingly from the faucets, the light blink to life without complaint, in the winter, heat warms our bones; in the summer, cool air ghosts over our bare skin. We never go hungry, never struggle to keep going.But the price we pay for it exhausts me.I rise with the sun, sleep when my limbs and eyelids beg me to. I hold the farm together with whatever I have, sell the products of the cows, the chickens, the fields, the orchards at markets; I buy our food, supplies, etc.I tire of it so badly that I often think of hoarding the money to buy a plane ticket and leave; never look back.One day, the tasks are few, and as the sun rolls by overhead, I clamber into the branches of the apple trees and sit awhile.A furious rustling alerts me to the person scrambling up into a nearby tree.They grin at me, crooked, eyes narrowing, yet not menacing.I smile then, wave.“So,” he says, legs outstretched along a thick branch, “How’s the farm suiting you these days?”I lie through my teeth. “I like it. It’s peaceful, and the work’s not too bad.”The smile dies on his lips.“You hate it that bad, huh?”My shoulders sink. “Yeah.”“Well, the Harvest Festival’s in two months. Want to go?”I shrug. “Wouldn’t you rather drag along your latest skanky girlfriend?”“Hey!” He says, mildly offended. “My girlfriends aren’t skanky.”Then a laugh, one so raucously infectious that I burst into a fit myself, bubbles from his throat. “Yeah, they are.”He sobers a bit. “Really, though, wanna go with me?”I shrug. “Sure.”“Wear something nice,” he says, and jumps from the tree, landing softly despite the considerable height.The thought of the Harvest Festival: the crisp air, the smells of baking food and apples smothered in buttery caramel and swirls of sugar-spun pink that are so sweet it’s dizzying, the dancing, the music, even the people fill my mind, keep my on my feet a few days,But I sink back into weary depression soon.Longing for some semblance if excitement, sleep is no longer a refuge but a nightly prison of inactivity. Dark semicircles begin to frame my eyes; my skin pales without the glare of the sun.One night, I’ve been awake far too long.My bed envelopes me, softer and more comfy than it has ever felt.But I can’t sleep.I toss and turn violently, and am finally drifting off when the rain starts.It batters the windows, which rattle deafeningly, a sound my pillows cannot quiet, pressed against my ears.A rapping sound is heard through the wail of the winds as they whip round the house, through the bitter lashes the rains inflict upon the weathered walls and the juvenile crops far below.Irate, I swaddle myself in a ratty blanket and head downstairs, muttering expletives.The lower half of the doorway is occupied by the broad, sinewy shoulders and head of a massive cat, fur darkened and slick with rain, eyes like lit coals staring upwards unblinkingly.My breath catches somewhere in my throat; the blanket slips from my shoulders.A low growl rumbles from the creature.“You tire of this life, child. The countryside is no place for you.”It seems concerned for me, worry threading through its voice.I nod, too afraid to speak, too afraid to lie.The eyes blink once, each independently of the other. A tail, the girth of my forearm, sweeps the rainy air behind it with what looks like enough force to break glass.The gravelly timbre of its voice finds something inside of me, something pushed deep down, smothered with labor and the droll drowsiness of the foothills.I feel alive.“Will you go with me? I will keep you from harm.”I’m about to ask where.But where doesn’t matter.I’d go anywhere to leave here.So i just nod and the creature crouches on long legs. “You have five minutes.”

[metallikca]

And nothing else matters.

DeanxReader+Twins, Soulless!Sam, Mary Winchester, Claire Novak

Word count: 3500+

Tag: @wanderingcas ILY Sam thanks for being so supportive of my writing dear 🖤🖤🖤 WARNING: Minor gore, hate, death mention and light description, evil!Sam,

A tribute to Angst day.

A/N I couldn’t miss this great opportunity to let my Lucifer!Cas side run a lil bit…. also, this hurts me as much as it hurts you, don’t worry. also I don’t know why I ended up adding Claire, because originally I was going to kill both of the children, Mary and Sam. But I wanted to be slightly less evil.

This was it.

You thought about what to do, how could you do what the world was telling you? What your gut was telling you?

Dean was your husband, you had two beautiful children together.

Your gut was saying insane things. Things about evil brothers and hunting, and the code for the safe the Colt was concealed in, the safe Dean told you that you should never, ever need to open.

But you had to face the facts, you had to face what had happened.

Sam had killed Dean.

And there was nothing you could do about that.

But you had to do something to protect Cassie and Sammy, to protect the children you shared with Dean. To protect the last members of your family.

But that something hurt, because Sam hadn’t always been this way. He hadn’t always been heartless enough to murder his own brother.

Sam sat against the counter in the bunker’s kitchen, you and he were laughing at a joke he had made moments before,

Dean walks in with a grin and grabs a beer from the fridge, wrapping his arm around your waist as your twins, Seven years old, ran through the kitchen, their laughter making smiles on the faces of the three adults, their smiles making them feel full of joy….

You jostled awake, tears falling silently down your face as the memories pooled, creating a lump in your throat. Your silent sobs wracked your body, the face of Dean Winchester appearing in front of your blurry sight, only to fade the moment it cleared.

His memory tormented you, in the way it showed you everything that had been ripped from you that day, that had been stolen from you.

Dean Winchester was your everything, and when you had beautiful twins Sammy and Cassie, they became your world. In the time you had known Dean, you had changed from a “Me” to a “We”, a “we” with two little children, perfect in every way.

Samuel Benjamin, the handsome little Angel, he had Dean’s exact eyes. The green shone every day, and when he looked at you, it was hard to hold back the tears. Cassandra Eileen, the sweet little Princess, the moment you held her in your arms you knew she would grow strong and fierce, just like her daddy.

“Maman?” A shy voice calls you out of your memories. “Maman, is everything alright?” The bright green eyes of your thirteen-year-old Son looked curiously at you, eyebrows furrowed slightly with concern. “Sammy, c'mere. I want a hug.” That was your way of saying you needed a little comfort.

And he gave it to you, he cradled your face and kissed your forehead and hugged you just the way you had done for him so many times.

your daughter silently joined you, her hazel eyes matched yours, and you saw yourself in her every day. Her blonde, wavy hair was cut short, and the freckles she bore over her nose had gotten bright over the summer.

Cassie wrapped her arms around you, and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I love you, mama. It’ll be okay.”

The twins didn’t know yet, didn’t know that they’d never see their father again. That their beloved uncle had lost his soul and went on a murder spree, which included his own brother and the twins’ Godfather, the angel Castiel.

You snuggle with your children for a moment, and try to enjoy morning light pouring it’s warmth on your little family.

Somehow you manage to get the motivation to get up, your children hold onto your hands, half dragging you up as you climb out of bed, just like they used to do on Christmas when they were little.

Except that Christmas didn’t include depression, it didn’t include holding onto the last two ties that kept you in this world with a iron grip, because you knew these two kids, barely teenagers, were all that kept you grounded when memories brought you to your knees with grief.

The day went on, you made pancakes with the help of Sammy while Cassie fed her fish, she had gotten them for her birthday this year, and Sammy had gotten a small gecko.

Since Dean didn’t like dogs and was allergic to cats, they had to get creative once the kids started wanting creatures to love. So on their birthday the four of them had gone to the pet store, and the kids picked out what they wanted-that wasn’t a cat or dog.-and Dean bought them. It was the last time Dean had seen them.

you ate a pleasant breakfast, and tried to sum up the courage you needed to tell your children why their father wouldn’t be home today, or ever. but how could you break their hearts and tear their innocence to shreds? How could you, their mother, their comfort, their safety, bear to tear your children down like that?

you attempted to enjoy the afternoon spent in the sun, playing, walking, reading, all with Cassie and Sammy, feeling worse and worse as the day wore on, knowing that this evening, after dinner, you’d have to tell your children something nobody should ever have to hear.

finally the time had come. Dinner was finished, the kitchen cleaned up, and you breathed in several deep breaths, as you tried to curb the nausea in your stomach, and focus your dizzy mind.

“Cassie, Sammy, come… sit.” Your voice caught in your throat and tears escaped from eyes you’ve squeezed closed. “I have something to tell you.”

“Maman? Is everything okay?” Your son always called you the French word for Mother, he loved it because you had always loved French. He sat next to you and grasped your hand.

“No, dear, I’m afraid not.”

“Mom….it’ll be okay. Whatever it is we can take it.” Your daughter’s eyes bore into yours with courage that mirrored her father’s.

But they wouldn’t be okay. They would be devastated. They would be broken. Just like you were.

“Come, sit.” You gestured to Cassie, patting the cushion beside you. You grab her hand, trying to compose yourself. But you couldn’t, and so the tears flowed like a waterfall down your face. And you began to speak to your children.

“I’m so sorry. Sammy, Cassie, please…. please forgive me…” you squeezed your eyes closed as your mind threatened to malfunction, memories of him bursting from every crevice of your heart and soul. “Your father-” your voice broke “- He…. he’s dead.”

you kept your eyes closed, hearing your children’s sobs was near to breaking you. They hugged tight to you, like their lives depended on making sure you were here, with them, and you clung to them with the same desperation. Their sobs rang through your ears, and so did yours, as you mourned their father, your husband, your best friend, Dean.

You stayed there for a long time, holding your children close to you, and in that time they fell asleep, both so hurt that they needed the escape of unconsciousness.

The next morning arrived sooner than you wanted, and somehow you briefly forgot, in the grogginess that comes with waking, that your world had crashed and burned around you. But it didn’t take long before everything crashed into your heart like a train, blowing up your soul into tiny fragments only held together by the children sleeping on either side of you.

You silently cry, the emotions tearing their way through you as if someone had taken a chainsaw and used it on your insides. Trying to stay silent, you curled into a ball and waited for the waves to pass. Somehow you managed to dry your tears and find some composure. You crawled out of bed as silently as possible, not wanting to break Cassie and Sammy’s peaceful slumber.

You make coffee just as you would if Dean were there with you, you use his favorite cup, ignoring the tears dripping from your face into the creamy brown liquid. you sit out on the porch, and watch the sun rise, dawning a new day. A day you never wanted to see, a day without Dean.

Anger begins to build, starting in your abdomen like a fire, and rising up your chest until it wraps around your heart. You close your eyes, breathing calmly. The anger makes you calm, it makes you feel less like crying. When you open your eyes again, they shine with rage, no The hazel colour Dean always loved so much tainted, and white knuckled hands grip your coffee mug tightly as you steeled yourself for what you had to do.

You stood, taking several deep breaths, and walked to the room you shared with Dean. Your children still slept soundly, and cautiously removed the family portrait that hung on the wall across from the bed, it was large, taking up quite a bit of space, the four of you smiling happily in the photo. You gingerly place the photo on the floor, resting it against the wall. You look at the safe, then back at your children, and your resolve hardens. You have to do this, the unspeakable, for them.

Holding your phone to your ear, you listen as it rings, hoping the person on the other line will answer. “Hello?” You exhale the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding, and close your eyes, silently thanking Chuck. “Hi Mary.” Your voice is almost dead-pan, you’ve started to let the rage fill you, so you don’t have to feel the pain. “I need you to take the kids for awhile.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? Where’s Dean?” Mary’s voice held concern only a mother knows.

“he’s….-” You fall silent, saying it makes your heart hurt. “-he’s dead.” The last word was more of a sob, as uncontrollable pain wrenched it’s disastrous existence through your body. You heard sobs on the other end of the line, and faintly heard the words Mary was saying, about how this must be so hard for you and that you can talk to her anytime, and of course she would take the kids for as long as you needed. “Mama?” Cassie’s soft, feminine voice drifted towards you.

“yes, sweetheart?

“are we gonna be okay?” The girl looked into your eyes with sincere hope.

“I’ll make sure of it, babygirl.” You reply, your voice strong, controlled. She didn’t see the gun you had hidden underneath your coat, the long barrel, engraved with symbols to make it magical, tucked against your side, while the handle rubbed gently against your ribs. A reassuring weight.

“Go get your brother, dear.” You instruct, and watch as your daughter disappears into the house, reappearing minutes later, Sammy in tow.

“Sammy, Cassie, you are going to go visit your grandmother Mary for a while. I need to sort some things out.” your children look solemnly at each other, and nod. “okay maman.” Sammy says bravely, his sister nodding beside him.

—

“Okay kids, time to go.” Mary grabbed her keys off of the counter where she had dropped them when she walked in. She turned to you and opened her arms, pulling you into a tight hug. “I know this hard, Y/N, but it will all be okay. You’ve still got the kids, you’ve got me, you’ve got Sam. We will support you.”

You hadn’t told her how Dean had died, or who caused it. How could you tell a parent that one of her children murdered the other? That one of her children lost his soul? You couldn’t. Not yet.

You watch your children as they are driven further and further from you. You tell yourself that it’s for the best, and steel yourself for what is to come. You step into your room and open the huge closet, moving the clothes hanging to reveal dozens of weapons. You grab bullets for the Colt, you also grab Dean’s silver, embossed pistol, a few knives, and, as a last resort, the grenade launcher.

– Baby rumbles down the road, her sleek black body shining in the late evening sun. You hold the steering wheel tight, trying to build resolve for the task you have to complete. You end up losing yourself in thoughts of Dean, biting your lip to keep from crying so hard it blurs your vision. You think back to the first time Dean had let you drive his car. It took a year of being married before he’d let you drive it, but when he did he beamed with adoration as he tossed the keys to you, stating that “you’ve earned it.” As he slipped into the passenger seat. You couldn’t stop smiling the whole rest of that day, or the day after. A month later you found out you were pregnant, and nine months after that you had two beautiful children placed in your arms at the hospital. Dean positively beamed with happiness, holding your hand the whole way, and when he first laid eyes upon his children, he couldn’t hold back his joy.

But all of that was gone. Dean was gone, and you were hunting his brother. You wonder how this happened, how you ended up being trained to hunt by the man you love only to use the training to hunt his brother.

– Sam stood over yet another victim, watching as the blood drained from the body. A smile spread over his face, a manic smile. A smile that shows that he is soulless. A smile that terrified you as you watched. You watched him saunter away, leaving the body of his victim behind like a piece of trash. If only you had gotten here more quickly, you might have been able to save the young girl…. You push the thought away as you trail Sam, concentrating everything on not being detected. He wasn’t a stupid man, not in the least, so you had to be twice as cunning to catch him off guard.

Sunset came and went, but you didn’t notice. Sitting in Baby, you watched the place Sam had led you to. You close your eyes, envisioning happy memories of Dean, and then think of the two children currently waiting for their mother to come home. You got out and popped the trunk open, tucking the Colt into your coat before grabbing Dean’s pistol and sliding that under the waistband of your jeans. You roll your shoulders, think of Dean’s love, and how it had taken a broken girl and made her into a independent, strong woman. You shed tears in memory of Dean, and Castiel, and the Sam you had known, and swore that you would come out of this alive.

You sneak into the back door of the house Sam is in, stepping carefully over the bleach-white tiles of a kitchen. Hearing noise from a room nearby, you ever so cautiously crept down the hall in semi-darkness until you came upon an open door with light shining through. You could hear laughter, and a TV. You peek inside and there he is, sitting with his back to you in a recliner, his long, dark hair flowing down to his shoulders as he watched the TV. You could see a gun beside him, and no doubt he had knives on him. You inhale deeply, exhale, inhale, exhale, calming yourself before creeping towards him, taking baby steps. You approach the chair, silently, your hunter instinct guiding you.

You swing around the chair, gun raised, and shoot before you even register what was going on. Its a doll. you frantically look around, but you don’t see anyone. You begin to panic, and instantly run out to the car. You search for the GPS on Sam’s phone, but it had been turned off since you last tracked it.

“oh…. oh no. Oh shit. Oh shit.” You dial Mary’s number as quickly as your fingers would let you, and listen as it rings, and continues ringing until you end the call.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!!!” You screech out onto the road and slam down on the gas pedal as thoughts run wild in your head, and tears fill your eyes. You dial Mary’s number again and again, but she doesn’t answer.

You arrive at the Bunker, skidding to a stop and jumping out before the car had completely stopped. You sprint to the door and unlock it as quickly as possible, almost falling into the building when it opens. “Sammy!! Cassie!!! Mary!!” You scream, running through the halls

You stop in your tracks as you pass Dean’s room. Something compels you to enter, so you do. And what you see there, you cannot imagine. Your son. Your precious son, lying in his own blood. From the looks of it his head was bashed in, creating a flat side on his beautiful face. His eyes were open, the green irises vacant, staring into nothing as he laid on his father’s bed. You drop to your knees, screaming out your pain as loud as a lioness would roar away her enemies. After what seems like eternity, to rise once more. You slowly walk to your son. You whisper how sorry you are, you place a kiss on his forehead and promise to give him a hunters funeral, just like his dad. You step out of Dean’s room, your son’s final resting place and wipe the tears from your eyes. There is still hope, maybe Cassie is okay. Maybe she has been excepted from death. It is your last thought before your vision goes black, a pain in your temple the last thing your brain notices.

You awake, tied to a chair. Your mind is groggy, but you see Mary and Cassie, unconscious, a few feet away. You notice a white blur go across your vision, and raise your eyes to Sam Winchester himself. Wearing a white suit, he smiles at you. Not the smile he used to have, but a manic, scary smile of someone who is no longer driven by moral.

“it’s good to see you, Y/N.” He circles around you, inspecting your weapons, but not noticing the Colt strapped in a holster to your inner side, the handle brushing your breast comfortingly. He drew a finger down your cheek as if it were a loving gesture. “I’m sorry about Sammy, I liked him. You named him after me.” He chuckled “How surprised I was.”

He looked away as if he were looking at a memory. But a moment later shook his head, almost like he was trying to clear it, and continued circling you, unsheathing the knife at his side.

He drew the knife across your cheek and smiled. He glanced at Cassie, and your heart jumped. “I was wondering how I should kill her.” His eyes moved back to you, manic showing in his once-beautiful eyes.

then he walked over to your daughter, and your husband’s mother, and he laid his knife against Mary’s throat and killed her. Blood gushed out of the woman’s body, while you and Cassie screamed. He then looked at you, and placed his knife on your daughter’s throat. However before he could hurt her further, his chest was torn through by a sword, shining brightly with Enochian symbols. Claire Novak stood on the other side, tears streaking her face as her friend toppled to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Sam. But I couldn’t let you do that.” Claire knelt down and untied Cassie, and they both ran to you. Your breathing is harsh as Claire cuts the zipties holding your limbs together. You hold your daughter to your chest as you sob, both relieved that she lives and devastated that your son is gone. She sobs against your chest and Claire stands off in the corner. You wave her over and envelop her in the hug, feeling an undying love for this young woman who saved you. “Thank you, Claire. Thank you so much…” sobs wrack your body as you cling to your daughter, and the woman who saved her.

It was a long time before you got up from the floor, and the morning had long arrived when you entered the room where your son lay, Your husband’s room, and look at his beautiful face one more time before you and Claire take his body, Sam’s body, and Mary’s body, and burn them in the sacred hunter tradition. This is the end of this horrible chapter. Your daughter cries softly at your side, hugging you. You kiss her forehead and wrap your arms around her comfortingly.

“We will be okay, babygirl, we are Winchesters, and nothing else matters. I love you.” “I love you too, Maman” she replied. You watched the sunset together that night, through the windshield of the 1967 Chevy Impala the Winchesters had owned for decades.

[spookysummersmores]

Mind Heist - Chapter 7

Word count: 4,310 (In the words of Grunkle Stan..."HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!")

Author's note: Ohhh, wow...after two long months of brainstorming, editing, and writing additions to the original...this is it. The final chapter.

I know that, when I posted chapter 6 the other day, I said that there would be TWO more chapters left in the story. And that was originally going to be the case! But chapter 7 felt just...a bit too short to me...? And so I combined chapters 7 and 8 into one and ended up with this...4,000+ word long monster. xP

This one is almost entirely just pure fluff, which is always just...a delight to write. Pines family bonding for life. uwu

Also...stay vigilant. Once it seems like you've reached the end of the chapter...scroll a little further. There's a surprise hidden at the very end...

I'd just like to take the time to thank all of you who have supported Mind Heist - especially @raination and @choc-chip-pancakes - and provided such wonderful feedback. It means the world to both me and my bestie, and you provided me so much motivation and so many smiles throughout this whole process. Much obliged; you're sweethearts, the lot of you. 👍💕💞

The person I'd like to thank most, though, is my partner in crime, @ichipine​. This story originated from summer RP shenanigans between us two. It was you who gave me the go-ahead, it was you that gave me so much cute Mabel dialogue to work with and add onto, and it was you who came up with some of the best dreamscape battle tactics I've ever heard. Without your assistance and friendship, I wouldn't have a complete story. Thanks, big sib. Working with you was a BLAST and a half! ^0^ *MAJOR HUGS*

Well...I guess that's all for now. In terms of future fanfiction, I'll be going solo from now on - unless Kaylee or another good friend ever wants to work with me on a fic again, that is! Until next time...see you later, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. Stay weird, my friends. ^-^ ❤

(As always, PLEASE do not tag any ships. Thank you.)

Dipper and Mabel were soon jolted out of sleep, and they both gasped as they bolted upright in unison. At long last, both of them were safe and sound in the attic of the good old Mystery Shack, and even THAT seemed brighter all of a sudden. Things were finally NORMAL again.

Well...okay, sort of normal.

Dipper immediately began coughing. "Ugh...well...I certainly didn't miss this..." he said hoarsely, sniffling.

Oh, God...it felt as though his head had been hit with a jackhammer. He hadn't had the time to worry about the effects of a mindscape war with a demon on a summer cold for long while in said mindscape. Now he certainly had something to report to his trusty journal about it once he felt up to it: 'If you're fortunate enough to...you know, not die, you'll definitely feel a heck of a lot worse than you did before going to sleep.'

He pulled his blanket up over himself for warmth and then turned to Mabel, giving her a small smile. "Mabel...you did it. I-if it hadn't been for you...Bill...he would've completely wrecked my mind or...or something worse that I...don't really want to think about." He shivered a bit - half from fever and half from the thought of Bill's twisted games. "The way I was feeling in there...I never would have been able to get him on my own. Thanks, Mabel..."

Mabel smiled wide. "Don't worry about it! There was no way I was letting him pick on my brother EVER again...the big bully. That guy just never learns," she said, hands on her hips. She got up off the floor and stretched out. She happened to notice that, even though it felt as though a whole day had passed them by, they'd only been gone for about an hour in the real world.

When she got a good look at her twin, concern set back in. She climbed up on the end of his bed and sat there. "You still seem...REALLY sick though. Like...more like miss-school-for-two-whole-WEEKS sick now. You doing okay?"

"In all honesty? N-not really..." Dipper started coughing again, and rather harshly at that.

Mabel quickly got his drink for him and felt his forehead. You could have used it in place of a kerosene heater. Bill really HAD done quite a number on him...

Luckily for Dipper, about 15 minutes later, the twins both heard Stan unlocking the front door downstairs. "Honey...I'm home!" he called jokingly from the first floor. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the attic door before immediately entering (which kind of defeats the purpose of knocking), grocery bags in hand. He walked in just as Mabel was changing out the cloth on Dipper's forehead. "Hey, kiddo...how're you doin'?" he asked quietly, sounding an awful lot gentler than usual.

"Terrible..." Dipper croaked out from underneath the covers.

"Yeesh." Stan set the bags down on the bed and sat once Mabel scooted off. "Well...I dunno if this'll make ya feel any better, but you're not alone. Apparently, it's goin' around. In the SUMMER. I was IN LINE with some punk who was practically coughin' his lungs up. Only in this weird hick town..." He sighed. "Okay...so I just about bought out the pharmacy."

"Bought it out, or stole everything?" Dipper whispered with a tiny smile and a sniffle. Even in his haze, he couldn't help but tease Stan just a little.

"Haha...very funny, y'little dork. You'd be gettin' noogied right about now if y'weren't so darn sick," Stan teased back, grinning at the boy. "Here we go now. F'real." He started unpacking the bags, and he'd only been half exaggerating about buying out the pharmacy. "Tissues, cough drops, cold pills-" He nonchalantly put a hand to Dipper's forehead as he spoke, but he forgot to hide his concern and stopped cold, eyes wide, when he felt how high the kid's temperature had gotten in such a short amount of time. "Which y'need RIGHT NOW. I could make an omelet on your head. Be right back. Mabel, keep an eye on 'im, will ya?" He popped out of the room, taking Dipper's juice glass with him.

Mabel flopped down on her own bed. "Oh, gosh...you're in really bad shape, huh?" she asked. "I'm awful glad Grunkle Stan's back."

"Same..." Dipper groaned a little and laid back on his pillow.

"Don't you worry, bro. I'll be by your side keepin' you company until you get better."

Dipper was happy to have her company...but he realized something. "Thanks, Mabel. Just...be careful, okay? Judging by what Grunkle Stan just said, you..." He sneezed mid-sentence. "Could catch it. Really easily. Wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy..."

'Then again, Bill would probably enjoy it. The weirdo,' he thought to himself with disgust.

"I'll try to be careful...don't worry." Mabel gave Dipper a grateful little smile. "And heck...quit worrying about me! You're the one Dad could probably use for a grill right now. Just relax."

Grunkle Stan soon stepped back in the room with a glass of water, cold pills, and an ice pack he'd wrapped in a washcloth. "Alllright, kiddo...get this in you before your head...spontaneously combusts or somethin'."

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan." Dipper sat up to take the medicine and went to pick his UFO blanket up when it fell to the floor. Stan put a stop to that, however, when both he and Mabel saw the child become dizzy the second he stepped out of bed.

"Excuuuse me; where d'ya think you're goin'?" Stan muttered to him, sternly, but gently.

"Aww, Dipper, you're supposed to rest..." Mabel stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder to gently lower him back into bed.

"I-I'm good...I'm good," Dipper insisted, though he immediately coughed again afterwards.

"C'mere, kiddo...thataboy..." Stan tucked the kid back in and gently placed the ice pack on his burning forehead. "Now...when I say don't move from that bed, I MEAN don't move from it. Not a big fan of the sound of ya there," Stan said in his gruff, but well-meaning, way. He backed out of the room with the rest of the grocery bags. "Mabel, keep an eye on 'im while I put stuff away...and if he falls asleep, come downstairs and just let 'im go, okay?"

Mabel nodded. "You got it, Grunkle Stan."

Stan nodded back and smiled at his niece. "Good. Rest up, kiddo," he said to Dipper softly.

Once Stan left, as Dipper laid there in his bed, bundled up in a little blanket cocoon, anxious thoughts popped back into his head...but much different ones than before. He hated admitting it to himself, but he was more than a bit wary about trying to go back to sleep. He knew full well that he and Mabel had just seen Bill disappear into the unknown for themselves. And yet...the thought of him possibly still lurking somewhere nearby just wouldn't leave his aching head. Nervous, he poked a hand out and gently began to pet Waddles, who had sensed Dipper's uneasiness and decided to curl up next to him as if to reassure him.

Mabel turned to Dipper, and without him even saying a word, she could immediately tell that he felt uneasy. "It's alright, bro-bro," she said, patting his head lightly to comfort him. "We got rid of Bill...we watched him poof away, remember? You should be safe now. Just worry about getting better...okay?"

Dipper hesitated before nodding slowly, though he still couldn't help but feel at least a little nervous. "Okay..." He sneezed again and cleared his throat. "I guess I'll try to sleep...my head is killing me. Maybe the meds'll kick in faster that way." He slowly pulled himself into an even smaller ball - he slept more comfortably that way - but turned back around for a second to whisper one last message out. "Oh, Mabel...? Thanks again. For everything."

Mabel smiled. "You're welcome!" She made sure her sibling was tucked in just right. "I'll check back later once you're asleep to see how you're doing, okay?"

The boy smiled a tiny bit and nodded as he watched his sister leave the room. Waddles, who had decided to make himself comfortable where he was, kneaded on the bed a bit like a cat would before spinning around and falling asleep at Dipper's feet. Dipper soon surprised himself by successfully clearing his mind and following the little pig to Dreamland.

For the rest of that day and night, Mabel checked up on Dipper and kept him company whenever she could. She made it her sworn duty as 'chief nursemaid and right-hand man of the renowned Dr. Waddles' to monitor his temperature and keep him supplied with fluids, tissues, and throat lozenges. At one point, late in the evening, once enough of Dipper's lightheadedness had subsided and he was waiting for his next dose of medicine to kick in, the twins even played a game in which they would take turns making up a story by drawing pictures on Mabel's dry-erase board. The town's plethora of oddities - supernatural and human alike - provided them with plenty of material to draw inspiration from, so they spun themselves quite a tale. It was around 10:00 when the twins turned in, and for the first night in almost a week, they BOTH found themselves sleeping peacefully that night.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Stan had come up sometime around midnight. He pulled up a rusty old lawn chair from the bowels of the attic storage, parked himself just outside the kids' bedroom door, and stayed there - occasionally nodding off, but never for long - until he'd heard them begin to stir early the next morning. He then made a break for it as soon as he knew that all was as well as it could possibly be.

Though he still had quite a bad cold, Dipper was at least much less feverish when he woke up the next morning. Mabel was immensely relieved and glad to see him feeling at least a little bit better - and Stan would never admit it out loud, but so was he.

Since Dipper was still confined to bed, Mabel's nurse duties continued well into that afternoon. Whenever she came to visit him, Dipper noticed that she wasn't her usual hyperactive self - in fact, she was being...oddly quiet that morning - but he immediately determined the reason why, or so he thought. He'd found himself in an odd state of mental exhaustion since he and Mabel had returned from their mindscape battle victorious, and he figured that his sister was feeling the same sort of fatigue.

At some point, Dipper drifted off to sleep in spite of himself. The next thing he knew, he was brought out of his impromptu nap by a strange sound - a sound that gave him a bad feeling, though he...honestly wasn't quite sure what the noise was at first. He'd only half-heard it.

Had...had he just heard a cat sneeze?

"Huh...wha...?" he mumbled out as he rolled over. "Mabel...did you say something?" He coughed and picked up his watch so he could check the time. It was nearly suppertime, to his dismay. "Aw, seriously? I slept all day?"

Mabel was seated on her bed, working on gluing bits and bobs to various pages of her beloved scrapbook, as she often did on quiet afternoons and rainy days. "Naww...i-it's okay, bro-bro," she reassured him quietly...though Dipper quickly noticed that she didn't sound quite like herself. "You need all the sleep...you can..." Her sentence was cut off when she sneezed again. She quickly hid her discomfort, not paying it any mind, but she could tell by the way her brother was looking at her that he'd seen her. "W-what? Why're you lookin' at me like that?" She laughed nervously.

Dipper sat up. Something was up, alright. She looked paler than he did, and just as flushed to boot. "Mabel...? Are you okay?"

"...Oh, no," she muttered to herself. It wasn't until then that Mabel fully realized what had happened. At least, she hadn't admitted it to herself until then. "Okay, Dipper...I think maybe I got sick, too.." Having admitted defeat, she groaned and plopped down on her bed.

"...Uh-oh."

'So that's what's going on. Should've known when SHE started being QUIET,' Dipper thought to himself.

He wrapped himself up in his blanket, walked over to Mabel's bed, sat beside her, and put a hand to her forehead. Sure enough..."Aw, no, you're burning up!"

Mabel frowned at the discovery. "Yeah...I feel pretty darn sick..." She began to cough, and she sounded quite awful. "H-how are you feeling?"

Dipper winced a little at the sound of her. "Pff, don't worry about me; I'm..." He sneezed. "Fine." He certainly wasn't fine yet, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was much more concerned about Mabel's well-being at that moment. He handed her the box of tissues that had been sitting beside him. "How long have you been feeling like this? How come you didn't tell me?"

Mabel grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "N-not too long..." She had actually felt herself coming down with something longer than she liked to admit. "I just...didn't want you to get worried while YOU'RE getting better...you know?"

"Aw, sis..." Dipper sighed. "It means a heck of a lot that you've been taking care of me. I really appreciate it. But just...don't forget to take care of yourself, too. You definitely don't want to end up feeling as awful as I felt yesterday. Okay?" He gave her a caring smile.

Mabel smiled back a little and nodded in response. Sometimes, it was almost as if he took the role of a protective older brother rather than a twin.

"Don't worry. We'll get you fixed up. It's my turn to help YOU out. One sec..." Dipper then got up and tried to call down the stairs for their grunkle. That very quickly turned out to be a mistake, for the fire in his throat began to burn twice as much, and it induced another coughing fit.

"SHHH, careful!" Mabel whisper-yelled to him, sounding worried. "You're still sick too, goofus!"

"Wha- what's that now?" Stan hollered back from downstairs, not having heard clearly. "Dipper? That you? What're you doin' yellin', kid? You're gonna bust your voicebox or somethin', and I'm not bein' held responsible for that..." he called up the stairs as he approached the attic. His head soon peeked through the doorway. "Y'okay?"

"I'm about the same as before; don't worry," Dipper replied, sniffling. "Mabel, on the other hand..."

"Hi, Grunkle Stan." Her voice cracked a bit - something that usually only Dipper's voice did - and she cleared her throat.

Stan raised an eyebrow in concern. He could instantly see that she didn't feel well and began to worry when he saw that clearing her throat caused it to ache. "Mabel...c'mere, sweetie." He put a hand to her head -  "Aw, jeez..." - and immediately went to see if he had a second thermometer handy, one he hadn't already used on his nephew. Dipper stayed beside her with a comforting hand on her shoulder as she waited.

It wasn't long before the thermometer beeped and decided to be the bearer of bad news. 100 degrees even. Stan sighed. "Well, that's not good."

"Aw, man..." Mabel frowned.

Stan took a deep breath, then came out with an idea. "...Alrighty. That's it. The two of yas, grab your blankets and pillows and...pigs and what have ya. You're comin' downstairs," he announced. "At least y'can...y'know, watch TV down there." The real reason he wanted them downstairs was so he could keep a closer eye on them both, but he dared not say it.

Dipper put a hand to his head, but smiled a little anyway. "Sounds like a plan to me." He quickly grabbed his blanket and pillow.

Mabel followed suit, wrapping both herself and Waddles up in her blanket. "I'm ready!" she proclaimed softly with a sniffle.

"All good? M'kay. Here we go..." Stan picked his niblings up and draped one of them over each of his shoulders. "All aboard the Stan Train!"

Very, very carefully, Stan carried them down the stairs. The twins used his shoulders as head rests and felt warm and safe in their grunkle's strong arms. He found himself a bit sore by the time he arrived in the living room, but didn't say so, and honestly, he didn't mind.

"Next stop...couch." He gently plopped them both - and Waddles - down.

The kids smiled. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"Yeah, yeah. It's nothin'." Stan brushed it off, but he smiled a little himself. "Now don'tcha move a muscle. I'll be right back." Off he went to fetch supplies for them both.

Mabel tried to help Dipper bundle himself, but he took it upon himself to help her bundle herself up first instead. "You okay?" he whispered, trying not to strain his voice anymore.

Mabel coughed. "I've been better...but I'm okay." She snuggled Waddles close to her for comfort.

Dipper gave her a little side hug. "Yeah. Sorry that I...got you sick..." Then, the twins ended up sneezing in unison, which they couldn't help but snicker at.

"It's okay...I think I would've gotten sick anyways." Mabel returned the side hug. "I liked taking care of you - it was fun! So...I don't mind," she said softly with a shrug.

Dipper smiled warmly at his sister's kindness, glad to have her by his side.

Suddenly, the twins heard talking outside the door to the living room.

"OUT."

"Aw, come on, man-" "But Mr. Pines-"

"No 'buts' except yours away from this door. This area's been quarantined. Now OUT, b'fore I sic the CDC on yas both!"

As the old door creaked open and Stan stepped through, the twins could see Soos and Wendy squeeze their faces through the opening as fast as they could, determined to get their message across.

"Aw, man...get better, dudes!" Soos called through the door, his voice muffled from squishing in between the door and the wall.

"Feel better, guys! We'll sneak stuff in to you later when Stan's not looking!" Wendy managed to yell to them just before - 'click' - Stan shut the door on them.

Dipper and Mabel couldn't help but giggle at their antics. "Bye, guys," the twins called back quietly, hoping the two of them could hear.

Stan dropped tissues and other such supplies on the coffee table with a sigh. "Alright...you knuckleheads both need meds, and I'm makin' soup. And later, I...may or may not be able to...spare some ice cream." He grinned.

Mabel gasped and smiled. "Yes! Ice cream!" she cheered softly before sneezing.

"Bless you," Dipper said...and then promptly sneezed himself.

Stan ruffled the kids' hair affectionately. "Consider yourselves lucky. I don't go sharin' my stash with just anyone, y'know!" He chuckled a little as he disappeared into the kitchen. He peeked back through the kitchen door, for just a second, to make sure they'd gotten settled before getting to work.

Later on that evening, after the little family had sat down together for ice cream and a movie, Stan unraveled himself from the blanket pile on the couch and left the room for just a minute to grab some coffee. When he came back...

"Hey, kiddos, it's gettin' late...whaddya say we-" He stopped as soon as he saw the kids and smiled warmly. "Ha...wouldja look at this..."

The sight before him was too adorable for words. Dipper and Mabel were fast asleep, leaning on each other for support. Waddles had stretched himself across both of their laps, as if he was determined to guard them as they slept.

Stan chuckled - not only because the sight of the twins sleeping was so sweet, but also because he found his mind wandering to the happier days of his youth. Distant and bittersweet as they now were, he remembered them fondly just then, as if they had only occurred a few days prior. Those were treasured days, worth their weight in gold, where, even if sickness kinda killed a fun weekend, it wasn't as bad when there was a good friend to keep you company.

He silently debated whether or not to move the kids upstairs and soon decided against it entirely. "Eh...just let 'em sleep, Stan," he mumbled to himself. "They're comfortable where they are. No use disturbin' 'em both."

He was about to turn the TV off and depart for his bedroom, but he hesitated. He just couldn't bring himself to leave the kids alone. So, he just sat on the opposite end of the couch - gently, so as not to wake them.

Just as he went to check the kids' foreheads, Mabel suddenly coughed a bit in her sleep, rolled over, and hugged Stan's arm. Dipper murmured something in his sleep, and his head fell over onto Mabel's shoulder.

"Awwww..." Stan put his arm around Mabel. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin." He slowly reached his arm over Mabel's head and ruffled Dipper's hair. "G'night to you too, kiddo."

Mabel smiled in her sleep, as if the message had gotten to her regardless of her slumber. Dipper did as well and wrapped one arm around Waddles, who oinked happily in response and went back to piggy-snoring.

Stan kept his arm around the kids for the rest of the night. He had had no intention of falling asleep, but the cuddle pile had a rather soothing effect, and so he soon joined his niblings in slumberland in spite of himself.

In another couple days, to Stan's relief, Dipper and Mabel bounced back from their colds completely. Almost immediately, the tween sleuths were back to exploring the gigantic oddity that was Gravity Falls, where countless other summer adventures - and misadventures - awaited them...somewhere in the woods...

the end

19-10-14-9-25 25-9-3-6 5-3-11-11-19-6 1-16-15-12-19 25-9-3 21-23-10, 11-19-23-4-22-23-17-5 25-9-3-6 8-23-6-4-25 5-3-6-19-12-25 1-9-10'4 12-23-5-4 21-16-23-10-17-19 1-15-12-12 22-19-17-15-10 1-15-4-16 4-16-19 15-11-8-19-10-20-15-10-17 6-19-4-3-6-10 9-18 23-10 9-12-20 8-23-12 18-6-9-11 4-16-15-6-4-25 25-19-23-6-5 8-23-5-4 5-9-11-19-20-23-25 5-9-9-10, 23 5-16-9-9-4-15-10-17 5-4-23-6 1-15-12-12 18-23-12-12, 23-10-20 15'12-12 4-23-13-19 22-23-21-13 1-16-23-4 15 11-9-5-4 20-19-5-15-6-19 15-18 25-9-3 20-15-20-10'4 1-23-10-4 4-9 17-9 3-8 15-10 18-12-23-11-19-5, 8-15-10-19-5, 25-9-3 5-16-9-3-12-20-10'4 16-23-2-19 5-4-23-6-4-19-20 4-16-19 18-15-6-19

[pretty-eyes-jaeger]

“You look like death” with Daisuga~~

Allison! Oh my gosh! I wish I could capture the look on my face when you send me these prompts cause I just… they make me happy! So I hope you enjoy this. It’s actually a piece from a larger fic I’ve been attempting to write but doubt I’ll ever finish. 

Sickfic! Starters

           “Hello?”Daichi poked his head around the door and took a step into the room. His eyes landedon the figure in the bed. Koushi was curled up under the covers, only his eyesappearing over the top of the comforter to see who had entered his room.Daichi, instinctively smiling on sight, gave him a tiny wave. Koushi sprang up,staring at him with disbelief in his eyes.

           Daichi tooka step forward as Koushi reeled a bit from the sudden motion, blinking rapidly afew times and touching his temple to dispel the dizziness. But when he regainedhis equilibrium, Suga smiled up at Daichi, dazzling as the sun itself. “Hey,”he said in reply, his voice bright despite the obvious raspy quality of it. Whatare you doing here?”

            Theinnocence of the question made the butterflies in Daichi’s stomach flutteragain. “I brought your homework,” he answered plainly, shrugging a shoulder tocall attention to his backpack. “And I may have missed you. Just a little bit.”

           It was thefirst time they’d seen each other in two days. Suga had been sent home sick fromschool on Wednesday, and hadn’t returned the past two days, as he was clearlystill getting his butt kicked by the flu. Daichi had struggled to stay away forthe last two days, Suga not wanting him to get sick. But Daichi had made the executivedecision that two days was too long, and was now doing a poor job of hidingthat beneath the guise of bringing homework.

           “Only alittle bit?” Suga challenged, a flash of mischief striking through his tiredeyes.

           Daichi heldup two fingers, measuring about a centimeter between them. “Like this much.”Suga laughed softly, flashing that brilliant smile again.

           “Well, Imissed you like this much,” he replied, holding his arms out to their fulllength. Daichi’s mouth fell open into an over-exaggerated O.

           “I feel soloved,” the brunette said in response. “I also come as an ambassador from theteam, who wanted to make sure you weren’t dead. A few of them are still alittle rattled seeing you pass out two days ago.”

           That earnedhim another soft laugh, this one much more nervous and apologetic. “Yeah, sorryabout that. It’s been a while since I’ve had a fever this bad…” He trailed off,catching a cough in his sleeve. “I’m sorry I worried you. And the team.” 

           It wasDaichi’s turn to laugh now. “They’ve been pretty distraught without their‘precious vice captain, the spawn on angels whose heart is made of sunshine.’”

           A halfchuckle escaped from Suga’s lips. “Tanaka?” he guessed.

           “Thesunshine part was Noya, but the rest of it was of Tanaka’s invention,” Daichinodded. “As you can tell, they get a little melodramatic without you. And a bitpoetic.” Suga laughed again, harder this time, his usual, bright laugh thatmade Daichi’s heart flutter. But the happy sound was cut short by a gratingcough that had Suga bent over, gasping for air. Daichi moved forward onimpulse, having no idea what to do, but feeling the need to do something. Sugaheld up a hand to signal that he was fine as the fit subsided. He swallowedthickly, his lips turning into a frown that nearly broke Daichi’s heart.

           Suga lookedlike a ghost of his normal self, face pale, shadows under his eyes, cheeksbright with fever. But he was still trying to smile. For Daichi. Because he wasSugawara Koushi. And that was just who he was.

           “How aboutwe start with some homework,” Suga suggested. “I feel awake enough now, andneed to be on my A game for that.” He started coughing again, and Daichigrabbed the half-empty water bottle on the bedside table, tossing it to him.

           “Yeah,you’re definitely on you’re A game right now,” the brunette joked as Suga tooka quick sip of the water, wincing as it went down. Daichi frowned, hating howpowerless he felt. Koushi looked absolutely miserable, sounded it too, andthere was little to nothing he could do to help him. Yet, his boyfriendcontinued to pretend that he was fine, or that he at least wasn’t as miserableas he clearly was. He still hadn’t caught on to the fact that he could hidenothing from Daichi, and no amount of forced smiles would ever change that,dazzling as they were.

           Even now,Koushi was still doing his best to be engaging even though he had to beexhausted. The silver-haired boy shot him a sharp side glare, sniffling as heset the water bottle down. “I’m always on my A game,” Suga argued lightly.

           “Sure.”

           “You seemskeptical.”

           “Well you looklike death right now. I don’t know if I’d call that A game material,” Daichiadmitted as he sat down on the floor next to Suga’s bed.

           “You canpull the chair…”

           “No, I’mgood here,” Daichi interrupted. “I’m closer to you this way.” He didn’t missthe blush that bloomed across Suga’s cheeks at that, (and he knew it hadnothing to do with the fever.) 

           “Yeah,closer to catching my germs,” Suga said nervously, pulling his comforter upover his face so only his eyes were showing. Daichi rolled his eyesoverdramatically.

           “Would it reallymake you feel better if I was in the chair?”

           “Yes.”

           “Okaythen,” Daichi huffed, pushing himself to his feet and retrieving the deskchair. He set it down next to the bed with an air of finality before sittingdown and pulling open the zipper on his backpack. “Happy?”

           “Yes,”Koushi replied, pulling the comforter away from his face. “But I am stillworried that you’ll catch my germs.”

           “Well don’tworry about that. Worry about getting better,” Daichi insisted, pulling out hisnotebooks. “I don’t care if I get sick.”

           “But I do,”Koushi said in response, voice reminiscent of a whine. Daichi met his eyes. Assoon as their gazes met, Koushi’s eyes darted away as his cheeks grew a shadedarker. “You came here to see me, and I’d be so mad at myself if I got yousick.”

           Daichishook his head, touching his hand to Koushi’s forehead. “Wow, you must bereally sick if you’d rather have your boyfriend leave then give you cuddles.”Koushi pouted slightly as Daichi’s fingers moved to brush his hair away fromhis clammy forehead. “You know I wouldn’t be here if it really worried you thatmuch. And I know it bothers you, but seriously, don’t let it. You need to worryabout yourself and just let me take care of you. Plus, I’ve been chuggingvitamin C since Monday to amp up my immune system for this very moment.”

           Koushiblinked, out of disbelief or dissent, Daichi wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t readyfor the soft, demure smile that spread on his boyfriend’s lips as he replied, “Cuddleswould actually be really nice.”

           Daichigrinned victoriously. “That’s what I thought.”

           “Buthomework first,” Koushi insisted dutifully.

           “Right,homework first,” Daichi nodded, tapping the notebooks lying in his lap andplacing them on the bed. He then moved over to the desk and pulled out Koushi’snotebooks and a pencil, adding those to the pile. “Get to work, Mr. A Game.”

           Koushi setto work copying the notes, asking questions here and there for clarification.Daichi answered each one, often making jokes just to get the other boy tosmile, which he often did. Suga looked less dead when he smiled, (which Daichitold him to provoke another grin.) They started with the subjects that Sugafound the most difficult, and by the time they’d moved on to his best subjects,he hardly needed Daichi to explain anything. But he continued to ask questionsanyway to get a laugh out of Daichi, asking the first things that popped intohis head such as why the sky is blue, or why certain people were better atgiving hugs than others. The brunette answered every question with the silliestanswer he could come up with.

           “Have Iever told you how amazing you are?” Koushi asked out of the blue, setting downhis pencil and fixing a look of pure fondness, catching Daichi by surprise. Thebrunette felt his heart skip a beat at the unprompted display of affection.

           “Not thatI’m aware of,” he said around a small laugh. “How amazing do you think I am?”

           “You’re themost amazing guy I know,” Koushi replied.

           “Ohreally?” Daichi asked challengingly, even though he couldn’t keep a smile offof his face. That didn’t stop his eyes from glittering with mischief. “And howamazing is that, exactly?”

           Koushi’seyes flashed the same mischief back at him. “More amazing th-hen…” His breathhitched and he quickly turned away from Daichi, catching a sneeze in hissleeve. He kept his face buried as two more sneezes escaped. He turned back toDaichi with a thick sniffle and a groan.

           “Wow, Imust be pretty amazing,” the brunette said with a smirk. Koushi rolled his eyesbefore his nose wrinkled like a cat’s and he snapped forward with another sneeze.Daichi tossed the tissue box from the bedside table into the other boy’s lap.“Bless you, by the way.”

           “Gee,thanks,”  

           “What wereyou going to say?”

           “Hm?”

           “What am Imore amazing than?” Daichi clarified, sitting back in his chair and crossinghis arms over his chest.

           “Moreamazing than dogs.” Daichi blinked. “I’m serious. Dogs are the best. But you’rebetter than them.” The brunette nodded with satisfaction. “Sorry, that wasprobably really lame, but, as you know, I’m not on my A game right now.” 

           “Is that aconfession?” Daichi asked with mock disbelief, one hand flying to his chest fordramatic effect. Koushi rolled his eyes, laughing softly as he shook his head.

           “Icould kiss you right now, but you’re so amazing that I won’t,” Suga said inresponse. “Cause I don’t want you to be dead too.”

            Daichi smiled. “And thatmakes you pretty amazing too.”